


Cisserus

by TheonlyDan



Category: Original Work, Vamps (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Attempted Seduction, Bisexual Female Character, Crossover, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Historical References, Lesbian Sex, Minor Violence, Movie rewrite, Post-Movie, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-08-11 05:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonlyDan/pseuds/TheonlyDan
Summary: Natasha woke up not feeling like herself, then she followed an anonymous calling, unaware of the adventure--magic, vampires, werewolves--that she was going to embark on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after the movie ended.  
This is a work of fan fiction using the characters in Amy Heckerling's movie: Vamps; I do not own the characters in the movie.
> 
> Warning: this story was loosely based on the 2012 movie Vamps, starring Alicia Silverstone, Krysten Ritter, Sigourney Weaver, and other talented actors; you don't need to know the plot or watch/rewatch the film.  
This story would unfold as its tone shifts from the movie, and it will explain everything.  
This fiction will focus on the original female character and Cisserus.

What would happen if you woke up, finding out that you were stuck in a world of own your invention?

It wasn’t as thrilling as people may imagine. The unexpected, overwhelmingly sharp setting, the vibrant color, and the people were too real, but also vague and blurry in all the right edges, like it was taken straight from your mind, from a restless night, from a dreamland.

So when Natasha woke up, she knew something was off.

There was something not right for the place that she was being. She was previously resting on a made-up bed; judging by the décor of the room, she may be in an expensive hotel of sorts. But what sounded the alarm in her head, was that she had forgotten how she got here in the first place. She had definitely seen this place before, on magazines or the movies or whatever…but what was she doing here? Why was she here?

It was all a haze; fragments of memories floated in her head, yet she failed to concentrate, nor having the right amount of strength and will power to piece them all together. Natasha tried harder to remember, but a dull ache started to pound steadily behind her eyes.

_Okay, why do I remember my name? _She refocused on the simple facts:_ I’m Natasha, and I’ve forgotten about my last name, my age, family and friends, the reason why I’m here, and where this strange place is—_

She groaned and felt like crying, but the tears refused to form.

Natasha got up from the bed and wriggled her toes on the furry carpet, getting every new sensation she could get. The room was unfriendly cold and dry.

She went to the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror.

The woman in the mirror was beautiful, but not the kind that would steal your glance right away. She had long, soft brown hair reflecting the lemon light, and a rather petite body; healthy complexion and delicate features: plump lips, elegant nose, prominent cheekbones, soft lines and wrinkles that were almost invisible. She looked younger than she’d felt; the place that was revealing her age, aging her without mercy, were her eyes. Her eyes set her apart from others; they were inhumanly blue, with golden specs swirling inside. Her eyes combined with her other facial features brought out an aura of femininity, melancholy, power and…something unfamiliar. She should be very familiar with her face, but seeing her own reflection, she felt heavy in her stomach, that she was only “accepting” all of the things discovered around her unwillingly, including herself.

She was all dressed up like she was hijacked in the middle of a business conference: silk blouse, slacks, and earrings; her makeup and hair were immaculate.

The air was chilly, reminding her of the hostile unfamiliarity of this place.

Trying to shake off the nausea pooling in her stomach, she decided to get out of this room to see what she could find and look for any kind of help. She doubted that the people in this city would believe a word she said.

She grabbed the black coat on the hanger, and was not surprised when it fitted her every curve.

She took a stroll. Her feet brought her to a place which looked familiar; but everything about this place was all too familiar to her.

The place that she was staying was indeed a hotel, filled with people she didn’t know. She couldn’t care less about the residents or staff, and they wouldn’t care more about a strange woman who was wearing a strained, lost expression on her face.

They had their own problems to deal with, and the people here had all been aware that their beings were insignificant, no matter how their parents cooed and guaranteed they were the most special of all.

So Nat didn’t blame them for their indifference.

She was now standing in front of a museum, radiating with history and grandeur (Natasha thought it was the expansive lighting that did the work). A majestic building like this should be quiet and still, composed with tranquility; but something in her stirred as she detected a trill, a tremor, some kind of trace left behind. Behind those closed doors, maybe; something must have happened inside the museum.

Natasha sat randomly on a bench; it was warm, like someone had sat here before. Like something had guided her to the exact spot to find out what had happened here.

She checked a watch she swore that hadn’t been on her wrist before—2 A.M.—and concluded it was too late for anyone sane to be here at this hour.

Natasha walked towards the front door with unknown eagerness and was again, not surprised the door was unlocked, with no guards stopping her, sounding no alarm system.

An intense event must have had taken place; some bones were scattered on the floor—she realized this place was a probably a memorial cemetery—and other unruly things indicating that struggles and fights had occurred just before.

It was strange that none of this had scared her; Natasha was rather interested in the giant coffin before her eyes. Someone…something was still in there, alive, ready to be wakened.

She took large strides and climbed the edge of the tomb. There were fresh angry marks that were being left harshly on the edges. Interesting.

Driven by some kind of instinctive need inside, Natasha leaned her head against the coffin and closed her eyes.

She cleared all of her thoughts until she heard nothing but her heartbeat. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Yes, something was screaming inside, but not to human ears. It was like an echo, a ghost or a shadow that was trapped, lingering before it would be totally gone.

Natasha was exhausted; her stomach was churning with discomfort. She held the heavy box of bones tightly in her arms, vision swimming.

Back in the cemetery, she had managed to pry open the coffin, found some a discarded yet still usable cardboard boxes in the corner—another strange convenience—and loaded the bones in the box. She was quite sure that there were too many pieces of them to form one man, but it was just to be safe.

She was relieved when the bones didn’t start to whisper or something; despite her already weird and shitty situation, some un-dead skeleton talking could still freak her out.

A sheen of perspiration was forming on Nat’s forehead. Almost there, she can see the hotel.

The little trek wore her out. Her feet hurt for wearing some ludicrous designer’s heels. Damn the high heels.

She showered quickly and took off the ridiculous makeup, tried hard not to think about a box of god-knows-what on the carpet floor, and dried herself with leisure, dressing in the most casual way the closet could afford.

Natasha stepped closer to the box and had absolutely no idea of what she’d to do next. She opened it and stared at the backside of the hideous head.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

It felt ridiculous to talk to a skeleton; Nat picked it up experimentally and studied the structure of the head, pretending that she’d known anything by the gesture. But the answer to her current predicament was definitely tied with the bones.

Her heart skipped a beat when she flipped it around, seeing the teeth. Whatever he or she was, it had monstrous fangs. She traced a thumb over the teeth, and gasped when it cut through her flesh. They were still awfully sharp.

Natasha put her thumb in her mouth, tasting the warm, rusty blood. To her astonishment, the blood on the tip of the skull’s teeth was sinking in slow motion, like it was being absorbed. The yellowish skull now looked, ironically, more alive, reflecting the florescent glow, turning into a shade of dirty-ish ivory.

She took the heavy box to the bathroom. Counting to three in her head, she emptied the box in one swift motion in the bathtub.

_Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._

She knelt down and stared at the skull, which seemed to be smiling with hostility towards her. Nat held in up and prayed for a sign, for any clue that could lead her to the next step.

It seemed that her blood would reverse the condition of the bones…what if, she gave the skeleton more “incentive”?

_Oh, this is going to hurt like hell._

She clenched her jaws and screamed internally when the pain exploded from her wrist, taking control of her mind and body. The blood oozed out with a speed more rapid than she’d expected, covering the teeth and some had splattered on the bones in the tub.

Trying not to make too much noise other than some agonizing gasps, Natasha smeared the blood all over the skull, hoping and wishing so hard for anything to happen.

_Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._

She cleared her head and tried to ignore the burning pain, focusing on the connection that she seemed to be feeling back at the cemetery.

_“Who dares to wake me from the dead?”_

A female voice echoed in her head, malicious, deep, contorted with other voices that weren’t entirely inhuman.

“Who are you?”

_“My name is Cisserus, Queen of the Undead. You shall address me as your highness.”_

Natasha, for some morbid reasons, burst out in weak, uneven laughter.

_“How dare you disrespect your mistress? You’re nothing but a mere mortal.”_

The voice ringing in her head sure sounded pissed.

“Well, I am the one who’s going to bring you back from…wherever you are now.”

There was a pause.

“So you need to tell this ‘mere mortal’ what she should do, and since I’m not one of your ‘Undead subjects, you need to stop forcing me to call you “queen”, ok?”

The voice huffed comically.

_“I shall tolerate your insolence for now. To bring me back, you’d have to share a part of your soul.”_

“How?”

_“…You have no second thoughts? This is, judging by all the standards, worse than trading your soul to Satan, and, I’ve greeted him just then.”_

“Look, I don’t care if you befriended the devil, or me being all Faustian; I just want to get this over with. The consequences are my own concern.”

_I just want the answers to the truth._

The voice chuckled.

_“I’ve met people like you before. They were brave, naïve and stupid.”_

Either it was Natasha’s imagination, or the voice was gentler and quieter this time.

The presence of the demonic voice was making her head fuzzy, or it was probably due to her blood loss.

“I will bring you back. And when you come back, you need to promise me that you won’t kill me.”

_“Dear, that’s out of the question. If I suck you dry, I’d be dead too.”_

The unholy voice dipped low in a suggestive tone when it spoke of the “sucking” part; but then Natasha was distracted by the agony in her chest, steadily building itself.

“What is happening to me?”

The pain was tearing her, splitting her into half—

_“Why, I am tearing a part of your soul away, of course.”_

The sensation became unbearable; Natasha passed out with the ungodly laughter and her own screams reverberating in her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha meets Cisserus for the first time.

There she was: naked, whole, alive in some anonymous tub, with dirty dried bones lying beside. With a sharp inhale of breath, she got up quickly in a fluid motion and check herself all over.

Cisserus sighed with joy and relief as she realized the resurrection was successful. For now.

She had no intention nor desire to go back to that hellhole.

She had it all figured out—being betrayed again by her own daughters of the night. One of them killed her for of selfish pursuit, the romance and happiness, another was blinded by her own perspective and belief, thinking that killing her own master was the right thing to do.

Rage burned up all of a sudden that Cisserus almost forgot the key element to her resurrection.

In her naked newborn glory, she stared down at the human form with indifference. No matter who she was, the small woman dressed in a black see-through nightgown was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor, next to the tub.

“Well, let’s see who you are, shall we?”

Cisserus stepped out of the tub with the familiar ache for human blood accumulating in her stomach. She almost tripped; the resurrection had inevitable downsides. She was extremely weak, and her body was too stiff in vampire standards. She’d need to warm herself up a little.

Cisserus gasped rather un-queenly when she carelessly brushed the hair out of the woman’s face, revealing who she was.

No, it couldn’t be. She had died centuries ago.

This must be some kind of witchcraft; her ex-lover was long dead. She remembered like it was yesterday—going to Cassandra’s funeral, hiding in the shadows, feeling as numb as she could get.

One of the greatest pain a vampire stem would have to endure, was the pain of countless regrets.

***

Natasha moaned and opened her eyes.

No place of her body didn’t ache, and she desperately needed a glass of water. However, when she moved, she discovered she was in a compromised position. The thing she brought back to life had tied her with—_was that her bra?_—on the bed. Her hands were bound to the bedpost, but her feet were free.

_That ungrateful son of a bitch._

She struggled and sit up despite her body wasn’t cooperating well, and found that the bathroom door was still open, the lights were on but nobody was inside.

It must have had escaped. Shit.

There was a glass of water on the small wooden table next to her bed; Natasha stared at it for a moment.

If the creature knew she wouldn’t be able to use her hands, why bother to bring a glass of water? For mockery?

If only she had a switchblade or any kind of pocket knife—

Then Natasha felt the weight of something bitingly cold on her chest. Just like that, a switchblade appeared out of nowhere.

She couldn’t afford the time to think how and why; she tilted and arched her body until the switchblade touched her lips, and she secured it with her teeth. Extending her neck as long as possible, she managed to get her hand on the cold piece of metal.

Although the air was cold, she felt a thin layer of perspiration on her neck.

She accidentally cut her palm when the blade sprang out. On the bright side, the material binding her was loose. Calm down, Nat. Everything will be all right.

She quickly freed her right hand and tried to tend to the other, when suddenly the door was pushed opened and slammed closed, following with clattering of things clashing on the floor.

Natasha’s already rigid body froze, and she turned around slowly.

The woman in front of her was strikingly attractive, with wild curly shoulder-length brown hair, sharp brown eyes cold as daggers, high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, thin red lips, and thin nose. She was very tall, six feet, or maybe it was her dominating, forceful, daunting presence that made people feel that way.

She was a very pale woman, probably in her forties, dressed confidently in an elegant burgundy dress that showed off all the right places. The things that clashed to the floor were…

Shopping bags?

“Have you done ogling me?”

The woman snapped and Natasha jumped. Her voice was more feminine than she imagined. Thanks to the lack of demonic harmony.

“And I can see that you’ve been a naughty, naughty girl.”

Seeing what Nat has done with the bindings, her voice dropped lower into a seductive purr; this is probably her ways of the world. Natasha mused absentmindedly. Seducing her way out of everything.

“So, the first thing you did after you are back to life, is to go shopping?”

Natasha scared herself when the words came out of her mouth; she didn’t know she had that courage in her. Nor did Cisserus.

Cisserus’ face darkened; a deadly smile blossomed on her face.

“Well,”

The next thing Natasha knew, the bed dipped; Cisserus reappeared via her inhuman powers, sitting beside her with child-like curiosity.

“Feisty, aren’t we?”

She purred; Natasha lunged forward and placed the switchblade on Cisserus’ throat.

They were no more than five inches apart; the air around them was charged.

“Now tell me: where am I?”

Cisserus didn’t seem to mind the deadly instrument placing on one of her most vulnerable places; she continued to stare at Natasha with curiosity and…lust in her eyes. Natasha couldn’t deny it was mutual. She felt a strong physical attraction towards this…creature; she could feel her nipples harden when making contact with the silk.

“New York City.”

She offered casually and continued to search Natasha’s eyes. Nat blinked with disappointment, which was a mistake proven later.

Cisserus took advantage of the distraction and took over the switchblade in vampire speed. Natasha tensed up.

“How did you get this?”

Cisserus caressed the knife; she dropped it carelessly on the floor and then her eyes were transfixed on Natasha’s wound.

“You’re still bleeding…”

Natasha gulped as Cisserus held her palm towards her mouth.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice came out a little raspy, betraying herself. Cisserus chuckled.

“Healing you, of course.”

Natasha couldn’t lie that she wanted to stop. She could see a tip of Cisserus’ tongue darting out between her red lips, and before she could stop herself, she had already let out a whimper when Cisserus made contact with the cut.

It sent a sting and a pleasant burn, adding fuel to her arousal. Natasha blushed profusely.

“Now, darling, I’ve made it all better, didn’t I?”

Cisserus cooed in a tone too sweet. Miraculously, the cut had stopped bleeding, healing itself until it disappeared.

“Your heart is beating so fast. I’m not making you nervous, am I?”

Cisserus smirked, revealing her outstretched fangs. Natasha stared at her angrily with little surprise; oh, she knew exactly what game she was playing. Natasha grabbed her hand and inched her own face closer towards Cisserus until she could smell her special scent, mixing with expensive perfume.

Intoxicating.

“Let. Me. Go.”

She growled; Cisserus ignored her entirely and studied her expression.

“What is your name?”

“Natasha.”

Something flashed by Cisserus’ eyes that could only be interpreted as disappointment. She struggled her hand free and stood up, towering above, staring at her with an undecipherable expression.

Grasping the opportunity, Natasha freed her other hand, fingers cold and trembling.

“Why did you bring me back?”

“Why did you tie me up?”

With a sudden movement, Cisserus was sitting above and pinning her down, choking her with rage.

“Now, I’m going to ask again: why did you bring me back?”

Natasha could still breathe, but she was starting to see black stars on the edge of her vision.

Seeing her like this, Cisserus sighed dramatically and let go.

“Silly me, I forgot I can just to hypnotize you.”

She made a rather comical hand gesture, and Natasha kept on staring at her, puzzled.

Cisserus frowned and tried again. Nothing happened.

“Your trick doesn’t work on me.”

“Shut up.”

Cisserus let out a frustrated moan and climbed off her. Natasha let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and drank the glass of water.

“And how the hell did you get that?”

Staring at the glass, Natasha frowned. The glass of water appeared by itself.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh, you’re insufferable.”

This woman was all nonchalance and arrogance, with anger that was out of control.

“Are you a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you lived?”

“Very long.”

“When were you turned?”

Cisserus snickered and turned around. Natasha had gotten on to her feet.

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“I just want to figure all of this out.”

“How did you find me?”

Cisserus put her hands on her hips and stared at Natasha, a hard and unreadable look in her eyes.

So Natasha told her what had happened as Cisserus’ face gradually darkened.

“…I feel like this place exists only in my imagination, and things happen, strange things like the water, the switchblade, the resurrection mission…it was like, if I want something bad enough, it would happen. And things keep happening to me like déjà vu.”

“Like the author living in a story.”

“Exactly.”

Natasha allowed herself to be relieved for a second, seeing there was no trace of joy on Cisserus’ face.

“You were in the wrong universe. The wrong storyline.”

Natasha’s stared at her blankly; she didn’t expect her to believe. She was expecting answers like: “you are out of your fucking mind” or “is this some sort of twisted joke” or “get out or I’ll call the police”.

“You mean…you’ve always know that you’re living in a ‘story’?”

“Not until now.”

Gloom clouded Cisserus’ face, and she sat down on the couch, boneless.

“Wait, there must be some kind of reason that I appear in this place…I mean you can’t be sure about the ‘Story theory’. You are still an independent individual before I showed up and bring you back, right? You have your consciousness, your past, your—”

“My story is supposed to be like this: girl in love, accidents, lover died, heartbreaks, adventures, being immortal, dead. End of story. Until you showed up in…in her form and bring me back to life.”

Natasha paused and reprocessed what she said. Vulnerability flashed by Cisserus’ face, and Natasha realized suddenly.

“I am appearing as your ex-lover?”

“The particular one before I was turned.”

Natasha frowned.

“Then I refuse to believe that all of this is just a story. This sort of coincidence was impossible. There’s more to why I’m here.”

Her voice was firm and steady; Cisserus’ head shot up at her direction, eyes piercing through her.

“There must be some loopholes and clues that we can find.”

“Who says that there’s a ‘we’?”

“Don’t you want to know the truth?”

Natasha walked closer towards Cisserus tentatively.

“Besides, I remember you saying something about ‘sucking me dry’.”

She arched her eyebrows and Cisserus smirked.

“That was a metaphor, dear. I don’t know what else you’re suggesting.”

“So, that means, if I die, you die, right?”

She stepped closer to the woman as if she could read Cisserus better that way.

“Yes.”

She answered begrudgingly and jerked her head up to look at Natasha like she was the most intriguing thing in the world.

“What happens the other way around?”

She stood up in swift motion and Natasha stumbled backward.

“I don’t know. Technically, you’ll die, too.”

“Liar.”

Natasha’s lie-detector was triggered for unknown reasons. Cisserus took a step closer with a predatory glint in her chocolatey eyes. She was invading her personal space again.

“You don’t want to find out, don’t you, sweetie?”

Natasha stared back unflinchingly; she could almost feel Cisserus’ breath ghosting on her face.

“Fine. Since neither of us wants to die, I suggest we team up and find out what the fuck is really going on.”

Natasha's voice didn’t tremble; Cisserus looked bemused.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, little girl?”

She lifted her chin with a cold finger. Natasha’s breath hitched. She stopped Cisserus’ movement by grabbing her hand.

“This is sexual harassment.”

“Now, who says that any of this is sexual?”

Natasha groaned irritably as Cisserus chuckled.

She swatted her hands away, turned to the phone then dialed for room service. She was famished.

She felt the same pair of eyes watching her every movement.

“I’m taking a shower. Try not to kill anyone.”

Natasha announced and heard a humorless “ha ha” behind her. She rolled her eyes. Gosh, that vampire was like a child, indulging herself with material pleasures, and nothing seemed to be more important than herself. A bitch to deal with.

But the most interesting thing was, why the hell did she look like her ex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go see Heartbreakers. I may or may not have based Cisserus' clothing or styles on that movie. But it's still a brilliant rom-com.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha was not the one being bitten.

Natasha swung open the bathroom door, then minimalized her voice noticing the silence. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and saw Cisserus lying on the bed, motionless. Natasha checked her watch, which appeared on her wrist again out of nowhere—she was getting used to it. _It’s almost five in the morning._

So she was probably sleeping. Vampires sleep during the day, right?

She sighed with relief. Thank god Cisserus didn’t run away again.

Natasha took off the bathrobe and started to rummage through the closet; the cold air was not the reason why goosebumps were raised all over her. She sighed, realizing Cisserus was probably still awake, watching her getting dressed from behind.

“Any style recommendations?”

She asked without turning back and wondered what took the room service so long. There was some shuffling in the background, and suddenly she appeared right behind her. Natasha jumped a little.

“You need to stop doing that.”

Cisserus chuckled.

“Or what? Are you going to punish me?”

She dragged her finger down Natasha’s spine slowly, agonizingly. She cursed inaudibly as she felt the annoying arousal growing, increasing tenfold this time and the cold shower was effortless.

Someone knocked on the door with politeness. Natasha cursed and threw her bathrobe on, securing them while she turned around to give Cisserus a death glare.

“Be good.”

Cisserus cocked her head and smiled innocently, but her eyes betrayed her actions. Natasha went to the door hoping there won’t be more trouble besides her comfort food.

It was a young man in his twenties, with a sharp look, standing upright and genteel as his mother had probably told him repeatedly throughout his childhood. Natasha went out of the room and sighed.

“My cousin is sleeping.”

She smiled apologetically, he smiled, revealing two dimples and bowed a little.

“No worries, miss.”

He had a really nice smile, Natasha noticed as he handed her the tray. His head shot up upon noticing the door behind Natasha being opened.

His facial expression started to loosen up, no longer looking alert nor eager to please, staring blankly over her shoulder. She turned around and saw Cisserus’ eyes had turned golden, glowing in an inhuman yellow, her fangs outstretched.

“Don’t.”

Cisserus ignored her entirely. The man walked towards Cisserus under her hypnotic control.

“Cissy.”

As soon as the nickname came out of her mouth, Cisserus froze and lost control over the man.

“Go! Go!”

Natasha shouted urgently at the staff who had no idea what was going on; he scurried away with difficulty.

“Cass?”

Cisserus continued to stare at her. Natasha stood stupidly and realized she’d just said something unconsciously; eliciting no particular response from the younger woman, Cisserus turned somewhat crestfallen. She turned around and walked into the dark. Natasha tried to let go of the guilt and followed her.

They didn’t talk for the next twenty minutes. Natasha ate, sank in her private thoughts and appreciated the silence, got dressed.

And she took a good look at Cisserus.

Lying on the bed, she stared at the ceiling with a slight frown and no other particular emotion, reminiscing.

“So, her name was Cass?”

Cisserus closed her eyes as if she was spent. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed carefully, as if she would provoke another rogue action from the vampire.

“Cassandra.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. Natasha clenched her fist.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Cisserus opened her eyes and stared at her impassively; Natasha felt her mouth was dry.

“I’m sorry that…I am not her, and I was clueless about why I’d said earlier.”

“You are absolutely clueless about everything.”

Natasha rolled her eyes as Cisserus huffed. She inched closer to the vampire, almost touching her cold fingers.

“That’s unfortunately correct. So, while you sleep, I’m going to do some research,”

Cisserus opened her mouth to protest.

“Uh uh, you rest. End of discussion.”

“You don’t own me. And you scared away my snack.”

“Snack?”

Natasha stared at her suspiciously. Something dawned on her.

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many did you kill when you were out there!”

“Ok ok, calm down. Six.”

“Six!”

“Or seven. I was hungry! Being resurrected requires extra energy juice!”

Natasha’s face flushed with anger although she felt ridiculous hearing blood being called as “energy juice”. This reckless undead hadn’t considered about the consequences of rousing suspicion in this city filled with innocent; seeing no trace remorse on Cisserus face did no help to ease her agitation.

“No more killing. Understand? Please.”

Natasha managed to lower down her voice and stayed calm. Cisserus stared at her with amusement.

“And what if I’m hungry?”

“You come to me, we’ll figure something out.”

It was firmly settled. Seeing no room for bargaining, Cisserus sighed, feigning boredom as Natasha stood up and left the bed, motions robotic.

“Bring me a coffin and some clean soil, will you?”

A sound groused behind. Hand on the doorknob, Natasha turned around slowly. She didn’t know if she was joking or not.

Cisserus shrugged.

“I sleep better in total darkness. The bed made my back go stiff.”

“Well, try some bondage. That will surely do the work”

Natasha snapped impatiently and shut the door.

***

Natasha had discovered an old, malfunctioned building that turned out to be the public library, within a lucky-thirty-minutes. She stayed invisible, rousing no suspicion as she walked into the place. The AC was broken and the air circulation was bad; Natasha wondered if that was why there were fewer people than she’d expected.

The research was long and tiring; there were scarce bookshelves concerning magic and supernatural documents— since sane people wouldn’t believe in them. The mold, dust and the lack of light were driving her on edge as the endless, mindless, hopeless search continued.

She gave up at some point, sitting on the wooden floor as she hugged her knees. So far, she had found three books talking about vampirism from a historical angle of sorts, three books about African voodoo, and too many cheap vampire erotica.

And were absolutely useless.

Her stomach growled. Natasha decided to grab something to eat, then she’d continue this blind wild goose chase.

Lunch was a simple sandwich and black coffee (and her day was finally saved by a decent cup of hot drink). Eating was less fun for someone strayed and clueless; her mind was occupied with Cisserus, and the thoughts of her.

“Sorry, is this seat taken?”

Natasha snapped out of her daze and stared at the blonde stranger with a thick accent. He was in his sixties, white, handsome, approximately six feet tall.

“No.”

He sat down manly with grace and fluidity. There was a scar on his face as it should be; his features were razer, bad-boyish, the kind of man that would swear to fidelity even deep down he would stay a womanizer. Natasha was about to ask him what the hell did he want before he took her completely by surprise.

“Cisserus.”

Natasha’s expression remained blank; but the fact that she remained silent had brought a triumphant and rather good-looking smirk on the blonde’s face.

“You’ve brought her back.”

“Who are you?”

“I was like her.”

“You mean a vampire?”

The blonde chuckled.

“More than that. You sure do like to cut straight to the chase, Cassandra.”

“I’m not her ex-girlfriend. What do you mean by ‘more than that’?”

“Interesting…”

The stranger paused to study Natasha’s face. She kept her jaws set and watched him took a bite of his sandwich. His teeth were abnormally white. And sharp.

“I was a stem, just like her. A stem is a kind of vampire that can choose and create its own kind in a weaker form. Thus, Cisserus is able to ‘wake’ someone she drained, turning them into a vampire.”

“And the person turned by her wouldn’t have the ability to turn others?”

“Yes.”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee. It tasted better when it was still hot.

“Why are you telling me this? And how did you manage to become human again?”

“Take me to her, and I’ll explain everything.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“And you trust her?”

Natasha paused. This old man in front of her looked harmless and benign; but nothing happened to her so far were close to normal. He sounded glib, if Natasha thought deeper about the way he talked.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeff.”

“Liar.”

Her inner lie-detector beeped; the stranger had offered too breezily, and there was a dangerous undertone laced somewhere in the words.

“You haven’t changed a bit, but you’re right. Jeff was never who I am. Alexander had always suited me better.”

Natasha was growing less and less comfortable with this situation. She got up.

“Don’t try to follow me.”

Natasha went back to the library.

After another fruitless research, she sat on the floor and slouched.

She checked the watch and couldn’t believe her eyes: four o’clock in the afternoon. Time seemed to be flowing differently in this place.

Then something happened to her watch. All of the hands turned to twelve in a harsh movement, and then two. Natasha slapped the device, and tried to get to a brighter place where she could take a closer look.

The hands on the watch remained pointing at the same direction—ten this time. She turned around and found that her watch was probably showing direction.

It indeed led her to something; she found that it was a dusty thin book, lying on an empty shelf alone, with a mediocre cover—black and brimmed-gold—titled: The Mystery.

She picked it up, blew the heavy dust off the book (and realized you shouldn’t copy that from the movies if you had an allergy) and flipped through the pages. It was blank.

No descriptions on the back nor the front. _Maybe that’s why it’s called the mystery since you don’t know ANYTHING about the content._

“Now, you may have to put it back.”

A sudden hand landed on her shoulder startled her; she jumped. It was Jeff standing beside, tall and smiling kindly with patience; deep down, Natasha knew he was anything but.

“You followed me here.”

“No, no. I would do nothing of the sorts to a lady, and I’m simply requesting you to put the book back to where it belongs.”

“I believe this belongs to the public, right? Who are you to stop me from borrowing a book from the library?”

His face darkened.

“I suppose you’re a little bit too persistent, missy”

To her horror, in front of her own eyes, his face contorted, body muscles twisted and enlarged.

He turned into a fucking werewolf.

Natasha was calmer than she thought she could be; her better-self took control, slowly slipping the book inside her pocket, monitoring the monster in front. The creature in front of her growled and watched her movements closely with it’s huge, bull-like eyes.

She found exactly what she needed in the pocket—the switchblade that she took from the hotel.

Then she leaped onto the werewolf, distracting it, and secured herself onto its back like a badass spy in Hollywood movies; she stabbed the bastard’s neck from behind.

She was still not fast enough; the creature had dug its sharp claws into her body while it struggled. Thankfully, judging by the pain, her clothes had cushioned most of the attack from lethal damage.

The monster stumbled and was weak in the knees. For a second, Natasha had ridiculous fear that the creature was not dead yet, so she pulled the knife out, and slit its throat. Blood gushed out of the giant gash she made; Natasha stared at the red, accumulating on the floor; some onto some shelves and books. The scene was beautifully gothic and surreal as the smell of rusty blood took over her senses. She detangled from the body and stood up.

It returned to its original form when collapsing on the ground as a human. Natasha hid the switchblade in the other pocket and walked out of the bloody aisle.

She remained poised and collected—exiting the library with her head held down, hands sticky with blood hiding in her pocket, walking down the streets unhurriedly, all the way to the hotel.

In the elevator, Natasha was immediately swept away with light-headedness. Her knees gave in as she buckled and landed hard on the handrail. She reached a hand inside of her coat and touched her back. It came back with hot, sticky blood. _Hers_.

Natasha went dizzy again.

_Hold on just a little longer. You need to live for the both of you._

The door opened and closed in slow, languid motion.

“You know; you did a lousy job to bring someone back to life. Some bones in the tub are not even mine—”

Then Cisserus jerked towards the heady smell of blood and the heavy “thud”.

Natasha, pale as a ghost, had collapsed with the door as her only support. Cisserus reappeared beside her and gasped.

“What happened? Stay with me!”

She took Natasha’s face and looked into her eyes.

“Look at me, Natasha. LOOK AT ME.”

Natasha hissed and her face was contorted with pain.

Cisserus scooped her up and put her down on the bed in sitting position, one hand supporting her back. She stripped her down to her bra, revealing alabaster skin contrasting to the angry wounds, still bleeding.

Mouth watering, Cisserus’ fangs stretched out uncontrollably and she repressed the primal hunger at bay. Natasha was losing focus again. She slapped her and cursed, then bit down on her own wrist and offered the oozing blood next to Natasha’s lips.

“Drink it.”

She looked at her with those big blue eyes, begging and vulnerable. Cisserus’ heart leaped in the strangest way she hadn’t felt for some hundred years.

“Trust me, Cass.”

She whispered. At that moment, she wondered if she caught the glimpse of the girl she loved in those eyes.

Natasha hesitantly put her lips on the wound. Cisserus inhaled sharply as the room swam. She started to nurse tentatively, afraid, sucking the wound as softly as possible; then as Cisserus predicted absentmindedly, Natasha increased the rate like she was a vampire, hungry for blood.

Cisserus moaned uncontrollably; she had almost forgotten how painfully good it was to feed someone else. Her whole body was floating and falling fast at the same time, and she felt nothing but pure bliss and constant ache; the need was everywhere—her neck, her chest, her abdomen, and her core.

At some point, Natasha had let go of the wrist willingly; her petite body lay boneless in her arms.

“I still…don't feel so good…Cissy.”

Cisserus’ vision was shimmering and swimming; she purred with delight and glanced at the wounds on Natasha’s back. They had healed and scarred in perfect condition; it would recover within days, leaving no scars behind her smooth creamy skin.

She touched the unharmed skin on her back; her skin was so flushed that Cisserus thought she might be having a fever. Natasha shivered and let out a shaking breath.

“That’s because you’re still coming down from the high.”

Cisserus’ voice drawled deliciously low. She caressed Natasha’s bare arm with feather-like touches; goosebumps followed as Natasha mewled and shivered in the most erotic display. Cisserus was starting to feel another primal need taking control of herself.

“Stop…sexually harassing me…”

Natasha was flushed as she struggled weakly in her arms. Slightly disappointed, Cisserus smirked with other emotions that she didn’t know she was still capable of.

_Now that’s the feisty one I know._

She leaned in, lips almost touching her earlobe. When she spoke, the girl let out a choked whimper.

“Who says any of this is sexual?”

Natasha was so embarrassed and aroused that she screwed her eyes shut. Then she was being lain down rather gently.

And she lost consciousness.

***

Looking down at the peaceful sleeping stranger, Cisserus couldn’t help but trace her fingertips along that once-familiar jawline.

The feelings that she’d hidden well were starting to resurface. That was not a good thing; they’d only hurt herself and others she’d ever loved. Cisserus needed to remind herself constantly—this was not her lover; she needed to drop the ridiculous notion that Cassandra might ever come back.

She tucked the woman in as gently as possible. Judging by the marks on her back, she was very lucky to survive from _them_.

She smelled the woman—not in a perverted way—making sure there was something else, apart from Natasha’s perspiration, natural scent, and obvious arousal.

Cisserus detected another place that the smell was coming from; she reached for the coat and dug out the murder weapon.

The switchblade. _Oh, naughty girl._

She sprung it open and licked the blood experimentally.

_Shit._

Alexander was after her again. They were unquestionably tracking them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly revising this finished piece(yes, already finished the 12 chapters); I hope my writing juice would keep on coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Cisserus' past was revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild smut ensued!

She woke with a start and felt the cold sweat pooling under her bra. Natasha vividly remembered the bad dream about vampires, evil wolves and red spilling everywhere…

And she inhaled sharply when realizing she wasn’t alone in bed, nor was it only a dream. Cisserus was sleeping soundly beside, all curled up; one of her hand was draping over Natasha’s abdomen protectively.

If it were under other circumstances, Natasha would burst out laughing at her current situation--sleeping next to a vampire, who clearly wanted to drink her blood, whom she wanted to have sex with, who saved her life, who was kind of cute when she was asleep. Cisserus looked far too young in slumber; without the anger and cynicism, the pain she thought she’d hidden well, and the constant snarl she wore as a mask, she looked too innocent for a being a _survivor_.

She was foolishly hoping someday the arrogant vampire might be willing to let her guards down. Natasha was intrigued; the vampire was arming herself with indifference and boredom because she wanted people to see her as some superficial, merciless bitch, so they would keep distance. Natasha understood that kind of people.

She’d have to admit, some part of her was still struggling to accept this reality, herself and the goddamn-gorgeous vampire. She knew it was wrong to have false hopes; it would be best if she kept her stray feelings at bay. Natasha shouldn’t keep false expectations.

Natasha sighed and maneuvered, trying to free herself from Cisserus’ one-hand-embrace. However, to her horror, Cisserus moved her hand and groped her left breast. Natasha blushed and cursed herself for feeling ridiculously turned on.

She managed to escape to the bathroom. She examined her wounds and marveled at the speed of recovery. They had already healed, thanks to the magical vampire blood; some dried-blood was still clinging on her skin. Nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix.

Natasha adjusted the water temperature to the hottest point her tender flesh could endure and washed herself from the dirt, the sweat, and the blood.

Then her mind inevitably drifted from the gruesome attack back to Cisserus.

God, that woman was the ultimate pro of seduction, Natasha could give her that; she was having a hard time controlling herself not to be reduced to some drooling plaything that Cisserus would probably be familiar with._ She seems experienced._

Things that happened before she passed out suddenly took all the air in her lungs. The arousal came back and hit her like a brick wall, as Natasha recalled every little juicy detail—Cisserus moaning, purring, touching, whispering in her ear; the climactic feeling as she drank her blood; the false safety when she lay spent in Cisserus’ arms.

She pictured herself tied to the bedpost, naked, with Cisserus hovering above, dressed in the same burgundy dress, deliciously dangerous and powerful.

_“Now, what should I do with this bad, bad girl?”_

Natasha snaked her fingers to her clit and almost cried. It was too sensitive. She started to rub herself, chasing her orgasm unhurriedly.

She pictured Cisserus kissing her everywhere—the column of her neck, her breasts, her sensitive inner thighs. Natasha pinched her own nipple, mouthing a silent “O”; it pained her to admit she was already too close.

She pictured Cisserus biting and teasing her, humiliating her, looking at her with smoldering brown eyes, sliding her fingers in and out of her wet cunt with leisure. The obscene sounds of Cisserus fingering her were almost ringing in her ears; she could almost feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, hearing herself begging to be fucked harder and faster, Cisserus smirking lapping and sucking her clit into her mouth—

Natasha covered her mouth in a silent scream and came violently.

The room was alit as Natasha got out of the bathroom wearing a towel. Cisserus was awake, still wearing pajamas, lying on the bed and stared at the TV with zero enthusiasm. Some black-and-white, old-timey movie was on, judging by the fedoras and the accent.

Natasha tried to look nonchalant, ignoring the fact she had masturbated to the thoughts of Cisserus minutes ago. Cisserus didn’t spare a glance at her direction.

“It got quite hot in there, wasn’t it?”

Natasha’s head short-circuited, but she tried not to show any emotion on her face. Cisserus smirked knowingly and started to switch the channels.

“Umm…I guess I owed you a big thank you, for saving my life.”

Natasha flung open the closet. She needed to eat; her stomach was protesting.

“And I am starting to regret it. I need to feed.”

“Well then, I’ll call room service.”

“I thought you said no killing.”

She grabbed a pair of bra and underwear, loosed the towel, and put them on.

“You can only feed on him. I’ll watch over you. No monkey business.”

Natasha threw on a cashmere sweater, turned around and glared at Cisserus; she looked back with an arched eyebrow as Natasha dared her to protest.

“Deal?”

Cisserus was about to say something crude, but something made her swallow the attack.

“Fine.”

She groused; Natasha decided she didn’t want to know why the sudden compliance.

“How long was I out?”

“Only for a couple of hours.”

She huffed irritably and stared at the watch, appearing out of nowhere again.

“You mean only two hours?”

“Twenty-six hours. And you didn’t tell me you have magical abilities to conjure up things.”

Natasha bristled, ignored her and put on a pair of jeans. _She was out in a really long time._

“We need to talk. After we are done with our…meal.”

“I suppose. After all, you nearly died yesterday.”

Cisserus smiled sweetly. Natasha stared.

“Spill it.”

“Uh uh, we had a deal. _After_.”

“All right. You’re insufferable.”

“Same to you.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

“Same to you.”

Cisserus went to have a shower; Natasha distracted herself with the wordless book so she would stop picturing Cisserus in her naked glory.

She had gone page by page, examining the book, taking in any detail or clue; she had even done ridiculous things to the book she’d rather die to admit.

Then room service was finally here.

She opened the door and let the same young man in again; he avoided her gaze with

a funny expression (Natasha didn’t blame him), settled down the meal, bowed,

taking his leave.

“Thank you so much. And I’m sorry about last time.”

Natasha grabbed his arm, stalling him. _Damn it, Cisserus. Come out of the bathroom this instant._

The man was a little surprised; he stared at her hand and Natasha let go, shooting him an apological smile.

“No problem, miss. It was all right.”

“Call me Nat.”

She gave him the most dazzling smile that she could afford. He looked at her for a moment, suddenly forgetting what he was doing.

“Oh…um, nice to meet you, Nat. I’m Mike.”

He extended his hand for a handshake, but Cisserus was probably listening to their conversation all along as she intervened.

“_Mike_.”

He jumped slightly and turned around as Cisserus appeared behind him less than two feet, wearing very revealing lingerie that was sexy and intimidating and mouthwatering. Natasha gulped upon seeing her dressing like this. _Fucking hell._

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.”

She moved with languor towards him and there was a predatory smile dancing on her lips. The man froze in her omnipotent presence, his Adam’s apple moved up and down. Judging by his flushed cheek and red neck, it wasn’t the only region of his body that was reacting to Cisserus’ presence.

“Didn’t your mama tell you to be careful with strangers?”

Cisserus cooed in a sweet, raspy tone that made Natasha suddenly wish she was in Mike’s position. He remained transfixed as Cisserus approached him until they were close enough to kiss. Mike was inches shorter than Cisserus, Natasha absently took a mental note as her heartbeat accelerated.

Cisserus leaned in and looked straight into Natasha’s eyes, then she licked the poor man’s earlobe slowly, teasingly, tantalizingly, taking her time as she played with her food. Natasha had never seen such an erotic display before; the fact that Cisserus was staring at her the whole time made her want to tear the vampire away from Mike and take her herself.

Cisserus smirked knowingly as she saw the unveiled lust in Natasha’s eyes; she tore her lips away from the paralyzed human’s ear to his neck. Natasha licked her lips and squeezed her thighs together, relieving the tension between her legs. The air was too hot. Cisserus’ fangs were outstretched as she bit into the man’s flesh without mercy.

Mike cried out as he tried to escape, but the vampire’s strength was too powerful as she held him down. Natasha woke from her daydream and watched the man’s face carefully.

“Ok, stop. That’s enough.”

Seeing the man turning paler and sweatier, Natasha shouted. Cisserus tear her mouth away and looked at her with a pleading expression.

“Come on. One more tiny bite.”

“No. Heal him and hypnotize him; tell him to…get out of here or something.”

Natasha stared at her. Cisserus sighed with feigned annoyance.

“Bossy pants. You’re no fun.”

Natasha ignored and went to her slightly cold dinner.

The spaghetti in front of her better be as orgasmic as being bitten by a sexy vampire.

“How was the food?”

“Not bad. Though I have a strange feeling that I’ve had better.”

They were in peaceful silence as Natasha ate her meal. Cisserus, after her feeding, was lying boneless with her back leaning on the pillow, smoking lazily. Natasha was surprised when Cisserus initiated the conversation.

“Does that beat cigarettes after sex?”

“Do you mean it literally or are you talking about the band?”

“Cigarettes after sex?”

That was strange, Nat thought. The name did ring a bell.

“Oh, silly me. I forgot who I was talking to.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

Natasha chose to ignore the icy sarcasm in her tone. It lacked bite anyway.

“Why do you care?”

Cisserus murmured and took another drag of her cigarette. Natasha shrugged.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Save it.”

Expecting the usual indifference, Natasha finished her spaghetti and dabbed her mouth with the napkin.

“Do you miss the food?”

Cisserus huffed. Natasha turned around and looked at her with amusement.

“My my, you’re sure persistent, aren’t you?”

She took another drag and slowly exhaled. Natasha was mesmerized with the smoke momentarily blurring the edges of Cisserus’ face and sculptured neck; the insignificant cigarette had never looked so right in between those long, white, delicate fingers.

“Sometimes, actually.”

She thought she was never going to answer. Chin in her hands, Natasha cocked her head, smiled and stared at her. Cisserus felt the weight of her gaze.

“What?”

“Can I have one?”

She wordlessly handed her one and helped with the light, face unreadable.

Cisserus had unknown anxieties feeling the pure warmth in the heavy gaze. _That’s just ridiculous._

Natasha copied her movements and inhaled, surprising herself at first, then exhaled with a smug expression knowing Cisserus was expecting her to be choking and coughing.

“I thought you’re an amateur.”

“Well I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Natasha wriggled her eyebrows. Cisserus rolled her eyes with feigned exasperation, but indulged a barely noticeable quirk on her lips. She wondered how long it’d take for another person to be tired of her and walk away; that was why she was always two steps before heartbreak, always on the move without much attachment.

“Penny?”

Cisserus sighed and closed her eyes. Natasha was being awfully talkative.

“I was thinking about how you yammer.”

“I don’t want to ruin this before we jump into the next heavy subject.”

Cisserus opened her eyes and stared at Natasha sharply.

“And what’s ‘this’?”

“Us having a conversation? You know, the kind of thing normal people do?”

“I’m not normal; I’m a vampire. And we’re not exactly friends.”

“I know.”

Natasha said quietly. Cisserus almost felt bad when she saw the transparent tiredness in her eyes, aging her cruelly. The moment of vulnerability was soon gone when Natasha idly put off the cigarette in the ashtray.

“Let’s talk about Jeff, or Alex. I suppose he was an old foe of yours?”

“Yes. And an ex-lover, too.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrows.

“Do tell.”

Natasha moved from the mini couch to sit on the edge of the bed. Cisserus gave her a loaded look sideways and sighed.

They met after Cisserus was turned. They didn’t see eye to eye with each other, since they were rivaling with each other, serving their supreme master.

“Wait, wait. I thought stems couldn’t create stems.”

Cisserus looked at Natasha, a bit agitated.

“What else had Alexander told you besides the stem?”

“Nothing too important.”

Natasha’s tone was light enough to make her dubious. She chose to let it slide.

“Our master was different. She was brutal and barbarous; the fact that she only fed on vampire blood made her invincible. Creating stems and feeding on them. You get the twisted cycle.”

“We need to show utmost loyalty and respect or she would kill without batting an eyelash. And she kept us under her leash with cruel mental manipulation. For example, sex was not forbidden between her offspring, love is. And she demanded various sadistic services from us.”

Cisserus let out an unsteady breath and straightened herself as if she could regain power over the memory. This was the first time that Natasha saw her with such unease.

“After Cassandra was stripped away from me because of her, I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, boy was I wrong. You see, I was sick for a long time.”

Cisserus held her tongue in hesitation. Natasha understood this may be one of her darkest histories

“If you’re not comfortable telling me, don’t.”

Natasha squeezed her hand. Cisserus felt ludicrously encouraged for unknown reasons. She sighed.

“Don’t patronize me.”

Again, the tone lacked bite. Natasha let go of her hand, eyes fixing on her with the same determined expression. But Natasha felt _soft_; Cisserus was used to being under scrutiny.

“The time when I was serving her, I was actually _enjoying_ it. I became infatuated with her and her twisted thoughts or actions. I needed to grasp on something to survive, even if it was deadly. She treated us the way we wanted, seeing through us and all of our desires. She played us all like puppets, and she was the smartest puppeteer I’ve ever encountered. Fortunately, Alexander wasn’t falling for her tricks. He tried to seek out the ones that shared his ideal of overthrowing the master. He came to me, knowing that my anger was still there when she took away my beloved. I had to. I lived on hatred and anger.”

“He was a very persuasive and persistent man, plus he lived longer—decades before me. He managed to convince me to join his little rebellious team; during those times we spent together, I clung to him as my last straw. I loved him.”

There was a tiny gulp as Cisserus’ eyes cast downward like she was admitting something shameful. Natasha frowned and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“The day came. It was carnage. During the process, I realized I didn’t know him at all; he’d hidden too many secrets from me, and I was still a naïve girl…it was just so easy to believe what you wanted to believe in. He talked about some allies were going to help us kill the master; it turned out they were just like our master, eager for power, eager to rule. They held me and other captives for a while, but he went soft on me; he didn’t perform execution right away. I escaped since I was the best warrior among them and witnessed the next morbid thing that they do.”

Cisserus went for another cigarette in a trance as Natasha helped her lit up.

“They discovered an ancient ritual in a magic book. That book on the table.”

Natasha was stunned, turning around to take a look at “The Mystery” laying on the table, as if it would move in some evil way.

“The book is magical. It was very hard to find since it disguises itself. Some say it even has its own will. It chose you.”

“We’ll tend to that later. What did you see after you escaped?”

“Our master was humiliated at first, not a surprise, I’ll spare you the gruesome details. Then they used the book to summon some devilish-deity to extract the powers in our master, channeling it into themselves. The powers were transformed and polluted since, you can’t trust the hands of an evil god. They became beasts… werewolves, serving under new wrong.”

“No wonder the books I read share one thing in common, that vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies.”

“Don’t tell me you read Twilight. That book was utterly uncalled for.”

“I may or may not have read an unhealthy amount of bodice ripper featuring supernatural species.”

Cisserus chuckled. Natasha smiled, strangely touched by the fact that they had just shared a moment, as brief as it was. She decided that she liked to make her laugh.

“I need to confess something.”

After a minute or two of silence, Natasha broke the quiet.

“Look, you don’t have to do something in return.”

_I don’t want any more pity-parties from you_.

Cisserus held back the snarky comment to her surprise. She had really gone soft for the woman.

“Back there when Alex found me, he told me several times that I didn’t change. He kept thinking that I was Cassandra even after I told him I am not. He kept emphasizing the part about ‘you haven’t changed’.”

The warmth in Cisserus’ eyes was instantly replaced by something concrete and opaque again.

“I think we need to find the evil-god and have a chat with it. I have a hunch that all of this mess was connected to you, your story and your…_our_ unfinished businesses. You didn’t tell me what happened after you escaped from the monster-cult, right?”

“They were still after me, and I’ve become an outcast in the vampire community. Sending Alex had been a stupid move since they thought I would still have residual feelings.”

“Do you?”

Cisserus’ eyes flickered something…regret? Anger? Remorse? Relief?

“I killed him, you know? I slit his throat and made sure he was dead when he approached me in the library. He was telling me to put the book back and then he transformed. I’m sorry.”

Cisserus stared into the blue eyes, not accepting nor rebutting the “sorry” part. Then she laughed humorlessly, showing her teeth, sending a penetrating chill down Natasha’s spine. Cisserus was more like a predator than ever.

_“Don’t be. I’m glad the bastard is dead.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Cigarettes After Sex.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night conversations ensued and strange visions occurred.

__

Natasha wished to be alone after their conversation so she told Cisserus she wanted to grab some snacks in a store she made up; it was a distinctive lie. Cisserus, for some reason, toned down her sarcasm to a degree that Natasha appreciated for the sensitivity and subtle compassion.

She took a stroll back to the place where she’d found Cisserus the first place and sat on a bench. She immediately sank back into her private thoughts, only inevitable after the mindless walk.

Natasha realized how much of a sacrifice she’d ask from Cisserus. She’d pulled her into yet another hell, forcing Cisserus to dig into her scars, dragging her into troubles that she didn’t want, nor needed to face. Cisserus was clever enough to make the best decisions to survive. What Natasha wanted her to do next, was to make decisions that were _right._

And who did she think she was to ask somebody to be someone they’re not? Was she taking advantage of her, exploiting the fact she looked like her ex-girlfriend? Was she manipulating Cisserus the way her evil master did?

Natasha groaned in the wind; it was so cold she couldn’t feel her face. She put her hands in her pocket for warmth, then she found the switchblade.

Natasha took it out suspiciously; she had worn a different coat—white, less feminine, military-ish—and had zero recollection of putting the icy tool in her pocket.

She frowned. This piece of weapon had stuck by her and became crucial in life-saving circumstances, and she wondered if anything was about to happen—

“Put away that thing before you hurt yourself.”

A voice rang beside as she spun around, blade pointing at whoever it was.

“Are you _stalking_ me?”

Cisserus quirked her lips and sat down next to her. Natasha huffed as she bizarrely calmed down in the vampire’s presence.

“We don’t want our princess to face another horrible monster again, do we?”

“Our princess can handle herself well, thank you very much.”

Natasha muttered and noticed the blood was gone; the steely blade shined under the moonlight without a scratch.

“Without my intervention, she could’ve been killed.”

“At least she wasn’t saved by some self-righteous prick.”

“You’re not referring to some idiotic prince.”

“Ugh, never mind.”

Of course, Cisserus was capable of catching the undertone; Natasha bit her lip, face burning up as guilt and shame gnawed at her; she shouldn’t indulge herself in that just because of self-doubting and irritating second thoughts.

“I was thinking that, this switchblade keeps showing up all the time, maybe there’s more about it. There may be some reason for it to appear.”

“Just because you found a book that turned out to be magical, doesn’t mean that thingy is also magical.”

“Hey, just spit-balling.”

“Everything appears for a reason.”

Cisserus said rather quietly; the melancholy caught them off-guard.

Natasha turned sideways and studied her face. She was again, bewitched by the shattering beauty the vampire displayed. The bleak moonlight cast shadows on her profile, illuminating the prominent—her eye, the bridge of her nose, her cheekbone, making the contrast of her clear-cut features starker. Cisserus shimmered, looking both gaunt and statuesque in their peaceful truce.

“When did you meet Cassandra?”

Silence.

Natasha fidgeted and wondered if bringing that up was a mistake.

“Colchester, England, 1692. We met after an earthquake, and I’ve believed that it was a sign. You can only imagine women in that time of era, all under the wings of patriarchy, willingly or unwillingly. So we cherished this relationship we discovered, and dared not to speak of it out loud; nor did we labeled it.”

“I can’t imagine gay rights even existing at that time.”

Natasha had stopped playing with the switchblade and put it away. She carefully inched closer to Cisserus.

She caught the movement and glanced sideways with an arched brow.

_Oops, that’s probably not the subtlest move._

“I’m cold.”

“You know you could just ask for an extra coat.”

“What happened to Cassandra?”

Cisserus inhaled and exhaled. _Might as well tell her what happened; she’s got nothing to lose anyway._

“I was ignorant and greedy, wanting more from the both of us. I talked her into eloping, and willingly walked into a trap—the perfect trap set by the supreme master, Wyetta,”

She swallowed; it still pained her to utter her name. Natasha felt dread instilling her heart as she imagined what Wyetta may have done to her.

“…she saw how desperate we were, and she made sure she took advantage of that. Boy did she played a good game.”

Natasha didn’t know what to say or do.

“At least she allowed me to go to her funeral.”

Cisserus laughed dryly and she could see the pain, so transparent in her eyes not because of the moonlight; Natasha leaned on her shoulder impulsively. She was aware of how tall Cisserus was; even after they sit down, she needed to sit up straight to look at Cisserus better.

“Cassandra must have meant a lot to you.”

Natasha didn’t give Cisserus a chance to comment on their current position.

“She was everything I’m not; a part of me had died with her. She was a reminder of conscience, kindness, innocence, and love. The biggest mistake she ever made was probably running across me.”

“But you said everything appears for a reason.”

Cisserus sighed with her mouth turning downward.

“I suppose they do.”

Natasha saw some movement from the corner of her eyes, and realized that Cisserus was wiping away silent tears.

Natasha didn’t comment on that, and Cisserus let her rest on her shoulder.

_“Wake up, Natasha. Wake up.”_

_She blinked begrudgingly and sat up with an extra coat draping over her body. Natasha found out she was sleeping on Cisserus’ laps, and she may have had drooled a little. _

_Cisserus smiled at Natasha; Natasha’s head was still groggy as she stared at Cisserus, forgetting she was supposed to be embarrassed for falling asleep and just let herself feel how warm Cisserus had become. She was so beautiful when she was smiling, weightless, carefree, happy._

_“You’re about to miss the sunrise.”_

_Natasha was about to reciprocate with a smile but frowned as she processed. She was forgetting a crucial thing._

_“Wait! You need to hide! We need to get you into the shadows--”_

_“Maybe I don’t want to hide anymore.”_

_Cisserus was still smiling as she looked at her, serene, and stared calmly at the golden horizon. The flesh and skin lost their previous strength to hold on to each other, and Natasha watched in horror as Cisserus dissolved into pieces. Into ashes._

_“Cisserus!”_

Natasha shouted and woke up with a start, cold sweat running under her sweater. To her immense relief, she was back in the hotel with Cisserus in deep slumber by her side, unaware of the sudden eruption of sounds.

_Fuck, holy mother of god._

Natasha decided to go for a run.

She was agitated; the fact she’d just had a nightmare about the woman she grew to care about made her restless. It was impossible to get back to sleep since it was almost noon.

She couldn’t stop psychoanalyzing herself—did the dream mean that she was afraid of losing Cisserus? Was it some warning or sign? What should they do next if the werewolves were chasing hunting them? How should they keep the book safe from the wrong hands?

Maybe it was the gym advertisement on the billiards of Time’s Square; or, Natasha might have had been a woman who exercised regularly until she ended up in an alternate universe. It didn’t matter: she had this unknown urge, a kind of desire inside that just couldn’t be quenched.

She tied her hair into a messy ponytail and changed into a t-shirt, a pair of jogging shorts and sneakers. How the poor closet provided her with seemingly all the things she needed, Natasha decided that she didn’t care.

She indulged herself with one last glance at the sleeping brunet, feeling something stirred in her chest, and then opened the door.

Natasha started to jog around the cemetery. It was kind of weird, but she didn’t want to waste time on finding places for her to take the edge off, nor bump into anyone she needed to pay attention to, in case they turn into a beast. The mindless and intense workout had turned down the voices in her head effectively; there were still thoughts worming their way in when she saw something that reminded her of Cisserus. But seeing a plastic bag in the middle of the road was hardly a reminder.

Around the ninth lap, she took a glance at the watch and decided to wrap it up; Natasha had no idea she could jog like this.

She slowed down and walked for a while. The sun was blocked by the clouds most of the times; it was cooler today than it was yesterday. Natasha stretched and went back to the hotel, satisfied, sore and sweaty.

She saw a convenience store and went in to buy some water.

Then she was hit by the explosions of flashes, lights and moving pictures, sounds and echoes in her head.

_“Do you go there regularly?”_

_“No. Our family is not the most religious type; nor am I.”_

_“Well, me neither. Can you keep a secret for me?”_

_Some English girl laughed. Natasha saw her vaguely like she was looking through a dirty glass._

_“Sure, I’d love to.”_

_“I hate churches.”_

_The girl and another girl giggled…No, it was Natasha who was giggling with the girl._

_“Damn, it was frigging cold this year.”_

_“Don’t cuss, Cissy. It’s more suitable for me.”_

_“You don’t strike me as a swearer-type.”_

_“I can swear like a sailor if you want me to.”_

_Natasha looked into the brown eyes that looked way too familiar. But the rest of the facial features were unclear and blurred. Through her blurry vision, they were in a room, spacious; a fire was built in the fireplace, and the air was chilling._

_“That’s not what I want from you.”_

_The voice dipped low suggestively, but shy._

_“Oh? And what do you want, Cisserus?”_

_Natasha was speaking in someone’s voice. The voice also dropped rather suggestively, confidently._

_“I…how about I show you instead?”_

_“Surprise me.”_

_Natasha felt a pair of lips, too soft, against her own. It was a brief contact, but the room was suddenly a lot warmer._

_“That’s my first kiss, you know.”_

_“Are you trying to make me guilty, Cass?”_

_“Just saying I’m not a good kisser. Keep your expectations low.”_

_“I guarantee; we’d have loads of practices.”_

The visions ended as Natasha found out she was surrounded by people, some were looking down at her worryingly; most were just bored, waiting for a show. She quickly stood up and sprinted back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cis and Cass together must be adorable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Biological revelation ahead.

Cisserus was still asleep. Natasha paced up and down in bare feet, swore for the tenth time, and went for a shower to plot for her next move. No matter what those memory flashes meant, she would have to tell Cisserus later, after they figure out where they should go next. This place was no longer safe; they both knew that. They were stalling for breaks. _Should’ve left yesterday… they should have known better that they couldn’t afford to—_

Her mouth was covered forcedly from behind. Natasha choked and tried to scream, nails scraping on whoever’s hand on her mouth.

“It’s me.”

She instantly relaxed. The shower was still on as Cisserus stood behind her.

The next thing she knew, they appeared in the place where Cisserus’ tomb laid.

“What the—”

“Someone broke into our room. It belonged to one of them, I’ve caught a whiff of the smell, we’re no longer safe there.”

“I agree. What about the book?”

Cisserus looked away. Natasha realized besides the fact they were both wet and she was very naked, they were screwed. Then Natasha winced at the red, angry marks she made on Cisserus’ hand.

“Sorry about that.”

Realizing she was talking about the fresh scratches on her hand, Cisserus shrugged

smoothly and hid the hand from her view.

“It’ll heal.”

“We should do something. Like getting a hold of the book again and find out what we should do. And how can vampires travel under the sunlight?”

“I’m not only a vampire; I’m a stem in case you’ve forgotten. And about your plan, it’s too dangerous.”

“Hey, I’m standing here in public naked with you, isn’t that enough?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t you just _summon_ up some clothes for yourself to wear?”

“Unfortunately, I left my magical closet in the hotel.”

Cisserus took some time to let her eyes wander, slowly taking in Natasha’s naked form. She was indeed exquisite, with fine perky breasts, flat stomach, and toned legs. Natasha flushed all over; she could feel the gaze _touching_ upon her sensitive skin; but she stood still, refused to succumb under her gaze.

“Well, fortunate for me.”

Cisserus smirked.

“Hide me in some bathroom and bring me some clothes. Please?”

“You look way too ravishing this way.”

“God! Is this really the time to do this?”

Cisserus emerged with the requested clothing in ten minutes. The good news was, Natasha looked amazingly dapper and elegant in pantsuit and heels (which were so not for traveling); her wounds were almost gone. The bad news was, the clothing indicates she should be concerned about Cisserus knowing her sizes alarmingly well, and the book was missing.

She went out of the bathroom. The book was not the only thing that went missing; she could pick up the faint smell of Cisserus’ unique scent in the trembling air— not entirely floral with a dab of earthy spice.

Natasha calmed herself down to block the impending headache.

_Inhale, exhale._

The loyal switchblade was inside of new the pocket of her white coat.

_Inhale, exhale._

She was not Cassandra, she’s still Natasha, and those were just fragments of memories.

_Inhale, exhale._

And then she was not.

_This time, it was different. In the previous flashes, it was less harsh when it came to her sensations and feelings. But now Natasha could feel she was being a different kind of person. She was angry, impatient and aloof; nothing seemed to matter except for her own desire._

_“Please, I’m begging you. We had a deal.”_

_Some woman was kneeling before her, clutching her velvet dress weakly; she laughed coldly, taking pleasure in the pathetic pleading. Natasha basked in the glow of being the superior._

_“We never had a deal. However, I could offer you one if you’re interested.”_

_The words were cold and malicious. The woman’s head shot up, indicating she was all ears._

_“I shall have your full loyalty.”_

_She kneeled before the woman and lifted her chin with a finger. Those same familiar brown eyes stared back at her, bemused, frightened and angry. The woman that she was touching was immobilized with fear._

_“And you will spare Cassandra?”_

_Natasha could feel her own lips quirking into an unnatural angle of a smile. She could feel the woman trembling upon seeing her expression._

_“I’m yours.”_

_It was barely louder than a whisper. Then a consuming urge took control of Natasha’s body in vicious waves; she felt the familiar thirst coursing through her veins, and she didn’t want to stop the ache sitting beneath her outstretched fangs. She let it grow; the desire to hunt, to kill and feed._

_She exposed the woman’s neck; the whimper she elicited only spurred her primal excitement. She sank her teeth into the wonderful, soft, tender flesh that was indeed, sweeter and more intoxicating than she’d ever expected._

“Natasha? Natasha!”

Someone was forcibly shaking her shoulders and Natasha realized in horror that the “memory fragments” had taken control of her again. Lying on the hard, cold ceramic floor, Natasha nauseously opened her eyes, groaning in pain.

“What the hell happened? I am only gone for two minutes!”

“Where did you go?”

Ok, nothing weird about her teeth, check. No particular desire to bite someone, check.

She wanted to throw up, check.

Natasha somehow managed to pry herself free from the vampire’s iron grip, keeping Cisserus’ feeble attempt to explain her whereabouts in mind, and puked into the toilet.

Cisserus held her hair back (a very sweet gesture that surprised Natasha and she was appalled by her own feelings; _really, Nat? Is this the time to be distracted?_) and she puked some more.

“I’m shocked that I’m not doing this in a nightclub.”

“Shut up.”

Natasha sat on the floor in silence with a clenched jaw and an unreadable expression, staring into the void. Cisserus just stood, a few feet apart, intrigued and bemused, waiting for a response. The penetrating guilt and heavy tension finally got the best of her. Natasha sighed shakily.

But Cisserus spoke before she did.

“I went off for some blood. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You _what_?”

Natasha stared incredulously at Cisserus’ unapologetic form.

“Or what? You prefer I bite you instead? No, stop looking at me like that… Where did _you_ go while I was asleep?”

“I went for a run!”

“Excuse me?”

Now it was comically in reverse. Natasha felt utterly foolish for her own actions. She stifled her weak remark when they both hear distinctive footsteps outside of the bathroom.

_Who visits a tomb in the middle of an afternoon?_

She grabbed Cisserus’ arm and startled the vampire.

“We need to go somewhere public; a place they’d never think we’d be.”

Natasha whispered and looked into the same brown eyes, afraid they would be darkened by fear or anger any minute. To her relief, the brown only reflected Natasha’s shaken paleness, showing the usual icy indifference—which was not so unbearable since it was now laced with concern—and things Natasha had trouble reading. All of them combined made hell of a good distraction as Cisserus scooped her up and the air inside of her lungs were suddenly taken away by force—

She hadn’t had the chance to cry out before realizing it would be a poor move; they had arrived at Cisserus’ chosen destination.

Ignoring the curious eyes of nosy locals or tourists stopping to stare at their peculiar situation, Cisserus dropped her off gentler than she’d expected. Natasha wasn’t used to vampire-speed-travel. The time before last time was easy probably because she was unconscious; the last time she was all naked and panicking, hyperventilating even. Her cheeks darkened with embarrassment not only for the previously compromised position, but also recalling the time she dozed off on Cisserus’ shoulder. She must have had carried her like this back to the hotel.

She realized this was an airport, considering the luggage and suitcases.

“Which one is this?”

The people stopping by went back to their own business.

“JFK.”

Cisserus put her sunglasses on with a smug expression, as if she knew what Natasha was thinking about. Well, Natasha blinked because she never knew how Cisserus would look this good in sunglasses. She stopped herself from internally expressing further appreciation on her outfit.

Then reality crashed down.

“We need to talk. Privately.”

Cisserus’ expression remained tranquil, calming Natasha before her nervousness started to make them look suspicious.

“I know a place.”

It turned out to be a vintage cafe hiding in the corner of the airport; it was probably too small, selling coffee and presumably lousy sandwiches to expand its business. The majorities of hungry travelers were elsewhere; only a pair of teenage lovebirds and a backpacker were in the shop.

The clerk nodded at Cisserus, threw a casual glance at Natasha’s direction, and went into the kitchen.

She slumped in her chair the minute she sat down. Cisserus sat on opposite seat gracefully, betraying nothing and took off her sunglasses.

“You know him?”

Natasha asked in a feeble attempt to delay the inevitable conversation.

“I’m the owner of this place.”

Natasha stared at her, knowing that this wasn’t a joke. Then she understood with some sort of sorrow why she would open up a place like this. She didn’t show the sympathy, though.

“Full of surprises, aren’t I? New York is filled with my hideaways.”

“Thank you.”

Natasha didn’t reckon her own gratitude to be so heavy, neither was Cisserus.

“What for?”

Natasha swallowed. She knew that the answers were not that important; Cisserus was smarter than this. This was a test, a game neither way Cisserus would win.

“For taking care of me. I know this…all of this is not easy for you. From the moment our paths crossed, I made you do things I deemed right, and I’ve forced you to face things that you didn’t need to face. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to be who you are not because of me. I know, it’d easier to tell myself you’re only protecting me because if I die, you would too. But, I don’t know, I just want to put the cards on the table, and I am still very confused considering I just puked my stomach out and before that, I was ambushed in the shower--”

“You’re yammering.”

Cisserus’ lips quirked with little amusement but the rest of her expression was unfathomable. Natasha clenched her own fists and looked away, trying to think over everything that she’d just said. _Idiot._

“I hope this is not the only thing that we need to talk about. Why did you faint?”

Natasha felt like a coward when relief washed over, and she was instantly guilty for feeling this way, realizing Cisserus chose not to comment on her emotional outburst.

She explained about the memory flashes to Cisserus, trying her best to be eloquent and articulate. She was too focused on the narration so she couldn’t be able to tell Cisserus’ reaction by reading her face. When Natasha told her she practically kissed her _in her ex’s body_ in one of the flashbacks, she cringed, thinking about the invasion of the privacy and all that. Cisserus simply nodded; she blinked and carried on. When she mentioned being in presumably Wyetta’s body, Cisserus could only be seen as being more concern, asking her if she was still under the influence of the emotions that didn’t belong to herself. Talking to Cisserus felt relaxing; she was a good listener, always asking for the right details, and she could feel that Cisserus cared about not only the content of her speech but also her well-being.

Natasha slowly calmed down, letting go of all of the emotions and urges that didn’t belong.

A waiter then came up with a tray of coffee and…

_Chicken soup?_

“Eat up. Your stomach would be much better after this.”

“How--?”

“We’re telepathic.”

“You and the waiter?”

“God no. The clerk.”

“Is he a vampire too?”

Natasha stared at the soup, to the clerk, and back to Cisserus. She nonchalantly took a sip of her coffee—_so vampires not only drink blood_—and stared at the clerk, who was a tall white man, muscular, poker-faced, with intricate tattoos on his left arm. Her gaze turned softer, affectionate even.

“He’s my son.”

Natasha’s head couldn’t process this; a thousand stupid and inappropriate questions suffocated her. So, she dutifully took the spoon and started on the chicken soup. It tasted better than she’d expected.

“You and…Alex’s?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The lines on Cisserus’ face softened. Natasha realized this was the first time she showed motherly-affection openly. _But who could have thought that Cisserus have a son?_

“I’m…”

There was a lump in Natasha’s throat. It was getting harder to say anything under this kind of circumstance; the guilt was eating her alive. She knew she needed to stop the meaningless apologies for things already too late.

It struck her that, there was no turning back now for Cisserus.

“I want to talk to him. Did he know?”

“David knew. But don’t worry, you can finish that soup without worrying if he put poison in it. He may be angry that his father died, but it won’t be about you.”

“Were they close?”

Cisserus shifted and refocused on her. Cisserus’ eyes were enchanting, reflecting the sunset with an amber glow; a thousand years of wisdom and sadness were suddenly transparent enough to make the stars cry and the ghosts weep.

“No. Alex was kind enough to leave David alone. That was the only thing that I appreciated him for.”

“How about when you two were still in that place? Did you not want to escape?”

“It was an act of selfishness and cruelness. He only let me go because he wanted me to suffer the consequences of betrayal.”

Natasha felt her throat closing up. She could taste the heartbreak and the grief in Cisserus’ tone.

“And do you regret it?”

Cisserus’ gaze sharpened; but not in a harsh way.

“I used to. To be honest, I’m having second thoughts.”

Her tone was light and revealed almost nothing. Natasha lowered her head and stared at the soup as if it would help to figure out what Cisserus truly meant. But her stomach growled embarrassingly, savaging this rare moment of connecting.

Cisserus chuckled as she got up, seemingly going to share a word with her son.

_“Be good.”_

Natasha shivered as Cisserus unexpectedly lowered down and whispered in her ear. She raised her head up just in time to catch a glimpse of a playful expression mixed with something loose, less strained, something that Natasha would dare to say, _happiness_.

And she may or may not be able to work it all out after this bowl of golden comfort.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teases and angst ensued.

“I want some coffee, too.”

“No, your stomach is still too weak. Also, you mentioned about talking to my son, right?”

After fifteen minutes or so, Cisserus had returned to their seat, looking strangely relieved and carefree.

“Yes. Did it go well?”

“You don’t think I am mother material?”

“No, I just don’t think of you as the…mother type, that’s all.”

Cisserus smiled, genuinely. Natasha only wished she had a camera to capture this perfect moment as the sunlight hit her in all the perfect angles and she looked just like the softest, warmest creature—

“Well, I can be versatile. And I don’t mind if you borrow a chat with David.”

Cisserus drew out a phone and started to Google something with deft fingers; Natasha swore David may have had just gave it to her. Cisserus took a sip of her coffee calmly under Natasha’s gaze.

Natasha got up and went to the man, wondering if he was running an underground crime business to be able to give Cisserus a phone.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Natasha let go of a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as David smiled at her, warmly.

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m not as bitchy as my mom.”

“Hush, she might hear you.”

David’s smile was infectious; he didn’t remind Natasha much of Alexander. David had a thin nose and sharp eyes like Cisserus, only they were so much warmer in hazel. He also had prominent cheekbones and jawlines, but his face was wider, and his features were less harsh, giving off an easy-going attitude that made people instantly like being around him. His skin was also less pale; tanned, even.

“Was she giving you a hard time?”

“…She’s a piece of work.”

“That’s an understatement. I’m her son.”

Natasha laughed as David scratched his head. He couldn’t be a vampire; everything he did was so…_human_.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Shoot. You want some cognac to loosen up?”

“No, thank you. Your mother would not be thrilled about it.”

He studied her face for reasons she didn’t know, but he was content with the result; David shrugged.

“Well, ask away.”

“Are you a vampire?”

He burst out laughing. Natasha felt dumb as her face flushed.

“No, of course not. Why would I be here in broad daylight if I’m a vampire?”

“But…Cisserus can walk under sunlight. And you look too young to be her son.”

“She hasn’t told you everything yet. Remember to grill her over that and other things.”

David wriggled his eyebrows and she grinned.

“She is like this all the time. You need to be patient with her.”

His tone was still light and humorous, but Natasha knew better that they were about to steer into a serious zone.

“She’s been through a lot, and her walls have become Impenetrable. My mom has always been the one who’d lost more in things she’d been through; every time she got hurt, she didn’t let it heal naturally. She keeps the scars as reminders, convincing herself that it’s the right thing to do for people like her. Well, I couldn’t get through her, since she’s stubborn as hell. But I know her in some ways that may surprise us both. I know she’s strong and capable and all that, but there is a void in her heart that keeps on getting bigger. And one day, if she doesn’t realize that she needs to die in order to truly live…that is, doing what she needs to instead of what she wants to, then…”

David took a deep, heavy breath and looked away, presumably throwing a glance at his mother’s direction. Natasha reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I understand. I just hope that I can be strong enough for both of us.”

“You can, and you will.”

He suddenly sounded like he had known her since her existence. Shiver shot up Natasha’s spine, not because of fear; she was touched by his words and his crystal faith.

“I know this might be, you know, the last time that I see you, and my mom. I may be all sunshine and rainbows, but I get it.”

Natasha lowered her head. She was not guilty; she was grief-stricken. Sad because of their destiny, sad for the injustice, sad for every romance going wrong, sad for their loss, sad for the goodness—good people always needed to make the right choices, whether they were easy or hard.

“I’ll try my best to bring her back in one piece.”

Natasha gave him the most affectionate smile she could muster. David chuckled.

“Well, you did good on the first time, I forgot to thank you for that. And I bet you can do it the second time.”

“Thank you, David. Thank you for all of this.”

_Thank you for not blaming me for having to kill your blood, thank you for your patience and kindness, thank you for trusting a stranger._

“No worries. And my mom digs for you. Hugely.”

“David!”

Natasha blushed and tip-toed, planting a chaste kiss on David’s cheek. He didn’t seem surprised at all as he gave a comical salute, disappearing into the kitchen.

She went back to Cisserus. She gave Natasha a look that was too nonchalant compared to previous interactions and resumed on something on her phone.

“Now I can understand your expression after you talked to David.”

“I didn’t _flirt_ with my own son. Ick.”

“What?”

Cisserus must have had mistaken the blush on her face for something else. Natasha suddenly wanted to roar with laughter till the whole airport heard her. It was probably something from David that rubbed off on her.

Cisserus was jealous of her own son. However, her expression remained impassive, revealing nothing much.

“No, I mean, he was a great person to talk to! And--”

_I already have you in my mind. _Natasha stifled that comment.

“You can rest assured: I am not stealing him away from you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Cisserus finally raised her head up, shooting daggers at Natasha. Natasha casually took her phone in a fluid motion.

“Why are you looking this up?”

“I’ll explain everything to you. Right now, we have a plane to catch.”

***

_It turned out David was one of the Merlins, a secret organization operating in Europe since the era of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It had grown into a complexed network, containing a variety of people all around the world; most of the members were capable of special abilities. Cisserus’ son became a warlock, being recruited in the early ninetieth century in England. He was a special hybrid; the fact that he survived his birth has always been a fascination to them. Being the creation of vampires was considered a death certificate, but David was more; he was a creation of vampire stems. He aged much slower than normal humans, and he also had unusual telepathic powers. _

_David was ambitious and he grasped his chance well; iron-willed because of his heritage and many other reasons, no one could have had achieved what he’d done in his lifetime, earning him a status of “Elder”. He was now in charge of the east headquarter in America. _

_Now Cisserus and her were going to the oldest headquarter in England, situated in London, to find out the truth of Natasha, “The Mystery”, and Cisserus’ seemingly unfinished business with the unnatural creation of werewolves. _

_The long waiting hours were not so dreadful as Cisserus took care of the legal affairs and fill Natasha in on her son._

_“I knew a lot of people here.”_

_She offered before Natasha could ask and breezed through it all, with composure and attitude no other woman could have had. Natasha could only step aside, wait, watching Cisserus standing so tall and powerful like she had nothing to fear, interacting with the staff, making up the little white lies. This brunet was so much more than looking exceptional in the elegant black dress (strapless on the left shoulder; pale skin deliciously contrasting the black), long leather coat with straps, knee-high boots, and stockings. She was so much more than being able to look dangerous and sexy when she was dressed in black from head to toe. She was so much more than wielding her femininity as a weapon._

_Cisserus was a stone-cold bitch, a loving mother, and an imperfect creature as dazzling as the sun._

Five hours felt quicker to Natasha; she felt the time when the fatigue crept in her body after they were settled. First-class.

Natasha decided she just wanted to enjoy the comfort; momentarily, she let all of the questions go, relaxing and staring into the void, sinking into her thoughts again.

“Penny?”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise as Cisserus spoke, breaking the silence. She was seated across from her on her right side, and they were approximately six to seven feet apart. Natasha was about to say how spacious it was and she appreciated for the privacy since they seemed to be the only people here, but her brain short-circuited as Cisserus leaned forward, crossed her legs agonizingly slow, and leaned back in her seat with content. Miles and miles of legs were on display as Natasha took Cisserus’ figure in like the first time they met

“My face is up here.”

Natasha was caught; however, she had no intention to defend herself, because this time she was truly ogling. Plus, she knew that Cisserus was doing it on purpose judging by the faint smugness.

“I was just thinking about the things you told me. And then I got distracted by the things you _showed_ me.”

Cisserus grinned and closed her eyes; the vampire was very tired. The bags formed under Cisserus’ eyes along with other lines that seemed to carve ten years onto her face, and Natasha suddenly had an urge to envelop the tall woman into a hug.

“Get some rest instead of looking at me, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She couldn’t sleep. After the plane took off and Cisserus seemed to be deep in slumber, Natasha ordered some food and wine—_you only get to live on_ce—and ate quietly.

So that was why Cisserus offered the “story theory” in the first place; she must have had some knowledge about magic since David was “in the business”.

Natasha still had a lot of questions that needed to be answered: _did you follow David to America or was it the other way around? Were you close? Did you raise him all by yourself? How do you feel after I was in Cassandra, your love’s body, and Wyetta, the sadist mistress’ mind?_

What Natasha was desperate to figure out besides her current bewilderment, were Cisserus’ feelings.

She was opaque.

She was more than capable of making sensible decisions, and Natasha was pondering what had changed. Days before, Cisserus was still a ruthless vampire who’d kill to satisfy bloodlust, who was a woman of materialism, who had tied her to a bedpost. Now, she softened towards Natasha, toned down her ways of seduction (hardly), doing things villains would snort at. Cisserus was helping her, no matter if the reasons behind would break Natasha’s heart, no matter if she was already miserable when she made up her mind, and would suffer greater in the journey ahead, no matter how long she had been running from the nightmares; now she was going to face it all because their best shot at winning this battle, was for Cisserus to be as honest as she would ever be. It dawned on Natasha painfully, that Cisserus might have had been unhappy for a long, long time. She might never get that happy ending.

But Natasha could guarantee—_she firmly believed_— that Cisserus would get the best ending this world had to offer for gray, tattered souls, if she tried hard enough.

Natasha was going to be there for her, every step of the way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisserus' feels.

Cisserus woke up.

She never slept well in this kind of massive-manufactured seat; she actually missed her coffin and the earthy smell of soil.

She had a queer sense of humor, celebrating the biggest irony and joke in vampire history—Bram’s _Dracula_ and its numerous mediocre spinoffs— Cisserus adapted to sleeping in coffins for a long period, even making her offspring and servant follow this bogus tradition.

Of course, she was making excuses for her recurring bad dreams.

There was approximately one hour left to reach their destination. Cisserus mused pensively as her gaze drifted from the monotonous décor of the place—_so much for first class_—to Natasha. She appreciated the ability of night vision and laughed at the ludicrousness.

Cisserus started to rethink about how she felt towards her.

She didn’t like to be with the people who understood her, but she liked to be around Natasha. Although she’d hardly shared anything except some crucial events of her past, she felt that there was an emotional connection, as small or insignificant it may be. Natasha may not recognize what she did in the past, but Cisserus was fine with that.

Few people could, and Cisserus didn’t want to be around them.

Natasha never criticized; she just embraced, adapted, and tried to find a solution to the problem even Cisserus could see she was falling apart. She was honest and brave in ways Cisserus couldn’t. She admired those qualities she saw so far, since she’d drifted to the opposite of it throughout the years. She would hide, lick her wounds, and stick to her ways of the world—her code meant everything to her. Without pride, Cisserus would float further and turn into someone like Wyetta.

If she was being brutally honest with herself, she had been becoming someone she’d regret.

To say Cisserus was pure dark, Natasha could be the light, except reality was never be so simple. Natasha couldn’t and wouldn’t be pure light; Cisserus could sense, from a dark one relating to another, that she was tainted.

The pure light—if it existed at all—would be consuming, like Cassandra. Cisserus knew Cassandra wouldn’t be able to do what must be done under this kind of situation. Cass had a set of firm beliefs of right and wrong: the world was about black and white, and the gray area would only be seen as the step before darkness. But that was why some part of Cisserus had always loved her; she _needed_ to. Without the pure light as a beacon, Cisserus wouldn’t see how dark and depraved she had become, and she would forget how to be good, what kindness meant, how happiness felt, how to _love_.

Natasha was darkened in a way that made Cisserus feel something deadly dangerous—hope. She had learned a cruel fact after all this time, that she needed someone like herself, but with qualities she didn’t possess or no longer owned. She needed someone who had equal tenacity and strength, who understood the concepts of darkness but would refuse to be lured in, who was in a constant battle to become a better person, who would accept her.

They seldom grow to love her for who she was.

Cisserus had tried and failed. She was in passive denial for the recent thirty years; in fact, she was just tired. She was always tired.

Until Natasha happened to her. The resurrection happened to her. _A second chance._

Hell wasn’t the worst for people like her, but she would prefer to be alive after she soaked in total desperation. Cisserus didn’t change much after the hell trip; she was still grasping onto things to survive. But the biggest difference this time was that she would hold onto something _right_.

Or she’d rather rot down there; living on poison was worse than hell anyway.

Natasha stirred and stretched, stifling a yawn as she remembered vaguely being on a plane.

Cisserus was already up on her phone, brows slightly furrowed together as she concentrated on some affair that must be important. Natasha failed to stop the warm feeling spreading inside her chest as she took in Cisserus’ profile.

“Hey.”

Her voice was raspy from disuse, and Cisserus looked up at her with the usual expression. Some amusement slowly crept on her face and softened some lines.

“You drool when you sleep.”

“Ugh.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Can’t you just say something nice for once?”

“You didn’t snore when you sleep.”

Natasha feigned annoyance with grin blooming on her face and headed towards the bathroom.

Several minutes later she came back with her hair done in a high ponytail and a bagel. Cisserus looked at her dubiously.

“The chicken soup has revived my appetite.”

She grinned like a child in a candy shop and slipped into her seat. Cisserus only shook her head with disbelief.

“So, food is just tasteless in your highness’ standards?”

“No, they taste like sand.”

“How about garlic?”

“They taste like shit. How about that for a comparison?”

Natasha laughed and took a giant bite of the bagel.

“You should swear more often.”

Cisserus arched her eyebrows and smirked.

“You like me being dirty?”

No, Natasha would not go there. But it was too late, she was already picturing R-rated actions while swallowing the tasteful-to-tasteless bagel down.

“We’d land soon. The Merlins would send people to our hotel to pick us up.”

“When?”

“Whenever they deem proper. It’s an institution that values privacy and you can’t blame them for being cautious.”

“Umm…which hotel?”

“The best one, of course.”

Natasha went silent as she took another bite of the bagel. Cisserus put her phone away and sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Headache?”

“Bad sleep.”

Cisserus mumbled and stared out of the window. There was nothing to see actually.

“You look tired.”

“My, you do know how to compliment a woman.”

“So you weren’t kidding when you said you need to sleep in coffins?”

Cisserus turned around and stared at Natasha. She looked back unflinchingly.

“I do miss my coffin.”

“How about the sleeping-at-day thing?”

“Honoring folklore. What’s wrong with a little nostalgia?”

“You blew my mind.”

“I’m a night person, to be precise.”

Natasha was getting used to this feeling of domesticity. She liked these little quarrels with Cisserus.

And Cisserus didn’t seem to hate it much.

***

They called Uber after they went out of the airport.

It was dawn; the air in London was crispy but colder than Natasha had imagined.

She recalled the nightmare where Cisserus had crumbled into a million pieces under the sun; she cast a glance sideways, a ridiculous move to check if the taller woman was ok. Natasha shivered irrationally.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just cold.”

Cisserus took off her leather coat and draped them on Natasha wordlessly. She sensed that Cisserus knew she was holding things back.

Her petite body seemed smaller beneath the larger clothing. It was enjoyable to see a woman in her own clothes, Cisserus made a mental note of that.

“You’re not cold?”

“We are more adaptable.”

“Compared to us sub-creatures, huh?”

Natasha looked at her with a lopsided grin. Cisserus let her lips curve a little on the edges.

“Then why are you wearing it if you’re not cold?”

“Because I look good in it?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you do.”

She murmured and sighed as the car appeared from the horizon.

The ride was peaceful; the driver was thankfully, not the mouthy kind, and he didn’t ask irritating questions like why they came with no luggage. However, Natasha did catch him discreetly checking Cisserus out. But she couldn’t blame him as she also noticed without the coat, Cisserus had a lot of skin on display.

Natasha stared outside the window wistfully at the beautiful sunshine. It made her serene than ever, realizing how small she was, how small they all were. Nothing seemed to matter much anymore, just the warm glowing sun that rose today, yesterday, and all of the days since their existence.

“Excuse me, I believe I have made a reservation under the name Audrey Oakes?”

“Oh, let me check that for you…yes, Good morning Miss Oakes, it’s the Golden Suite, correct?”

Natasha was trying hard not to gawk in the spacious hall of the hotel; even its front desk looked expensive. Then her attention was immediately from her for Cisserus’ flawless and incredible English accent. _Natasha almost forgot she was British._

She realized they were sharing a room—no big deal since she’d already been tied by her to a bed.

“Why didn’t you keep the accent back in the U.S?”

“I want to blend in. It sounds rather pompous; don’t you think?”

“It’s hot.”

They were in the elevator as Natasha tried hard not to make a fuss about the fact she couldn’t see Cisserus in the mirror.

“It must be hard, not able to see yourself.”

The smirk on Cisserus faded into a neutral, almost melancholic expression. Natasha traced her fingertips down her arm softly, all the way to her hand, and see herself alone in the mirror with an odd hand movement.

Cisserus’ skin temperature was higher than she’d imagine; she was not _icy_ but nor was she warm. But it was as smooth as silk.

“I have gotten used to it after a couple of decades.”

The elevator door opened as Cisserus led her to their room.

Natasha felt she didn’t deserve the room; it was excruciatingly classy, almost bigger than an apartment (_a gallery_). The decoration was nothing too extravagant but aesthetic. The bed made Natasha want to dive into the fluffy paradise but then she stopped to wonder_ how many thread counts_ and _are those Egyptian cotton? _

The lighting in the room was more than sufficient because of the French window; she stopped before the glass for a while to enjoy the view and indulged herself with the ludicrous fear—_if she touched the glass, the window would break and she would fall down, all the way down to the earth’s core. _Natasha touched the glass and took it as a good sign when nothing happened. She let out a breath and let her forehead rest on the glass, staring at the orange light across the city.

Cisserus didn’t spend time on touring; instead, she went near the bed and started to undress. Natasha only noticed that when she came back from the exploration, stomach dropping low upon seeing the back of Cisserus’ willowy figure.

“Help me with the zipper, would you?”

Natasha's head jerked. Of course, Cisserus knew she was watching her; she had already taken off the boots, the stockings, and the earrings.

She sat onto the bed rather awkwardly and stared at Cisserus’ back, ignoring the inappropriate thoughts and unzipped her dress to the waist.

“Thanks, dear. Be good and don’t wander off again.”

She stood up and gave Natasha a smirk, referring to her last workout-venture, but how the hell would Natasha be thinking about that when Cisserus was in _this_ state of undress—

“You going to the shower?”

Natasha’s voice came off a little unsteady as she forced herself on her feet towards the living room.

“Where do you think I’m going to?”

Cisserus’ voice was playful but nonchalant as she peeled off the dress. It was too late for Natasha—she knew she would be miserable with the image of Cisserus’ naked back when she sat on the sofa, staring at the boring TV, wondering how Cisserus’ naked front would look like.

Natasha had this urge again. But this time it wasn’t the same; her hand was _itching_, or it was the head telling her she needed to do something with her hand. She missed the feeling and the sounds of pencil scraping on paper.

It occurred to her, that she hadn’t done anything of sorts since she woke up the hotel back in New York. Nor was jogging if she really thought about it.

Natasha went to the desk and rummaged, discovering a pen and some blank sheets. Pen in her right hand, she started to sketch with leisure on the paper, then there was a small voice telling her she should draw with her left hand. It was peculiar—she thought she was right-handed since it was something instinctive and she did most of the things with her right hand. However, her muscle memory roared alive when trying a few strokes with the pen in her left. She quickly worked on the thing that came up first.

Cisserus.

She slowly started with her eyes, her brows, the bridge of her nose, her lips that danced with a small affectionate smile. And then her left cheek, putting on the shadows to contour, and then her—

“What are you doing?”

Natasha jumped. Cisserus appeared behind her wearing a towel.

“Uh…nothing.”

“Show me.”

She dried her hair and walked closer. Natasha hid the paper from her sight. Cisserus cocked her head and arched her eyebrow.

“Ok I’ll show you when I finished it. But no peaking before that.”

Natasha took in Cisserus’ rosy complexion after the hot shower and freshly scrubbed face, suddenly feeling like she was intruding something.

“All right. So mysterious.”

Natasha ignored the comment and went back to work.

Hours later, she had finished the portrait of Cisserus’ profile. It was an angle of Cisserus turning her head towards her, slightly smiling, with sunshine highlighting her features; she looked younger and freer. Natasha stared at it with a frown and wondered why she was so good at this—not that she wanted to brag—but this kind of work could belong to a street artist. _Had she done this before?_

The room was empty; Cisserus’ clothes were still discarded on the bed. Natasha wasn’t too worried about her as she flung open the closet.

Well, if her “magical abilities” were real, it better made this closet into her new “magical closet.” Natasha shook her head, mocking her own predicament and went to the shower.

She didn’t know if Cisserus had ordered their clothes be sent to this hotel, but Natasha was glad that she could wear something comfortable as she threw on a fluffy sweater and a pair of jeans. She went to the living room and saw Cisserus sitting in front of the desk, _transformed_.

“Hey, you got a haircut.”

She walked closer and realized that Cisserus had already discovered her work; she was staring at it in awe, crestfallen with emotions flashing by her expression.

“Well, I may have to draw you another one since your hair is different.”

Cisserus had straightened and chopped her hair into a modern long bob, no longer an eccentric, untouchable beauty living in solitude but a classic, tasteful businesswoman who looked feisty and reliable. Natasha blinked and realized Cisserus was staring at her with an arched eyebrow. She blushed and lamely played with a strand of Cisserus’ hair.

“Sorry, just adjusting to your new look and computing my next masterpiece.”

Cisserus huffed and rolled her eyes.

“How did you managed to do this?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me. You can keep it.”

Natasha leaned on the desk next to Cisserus while she took in her attire; she was wearing a velvet blouse, a tight black skirt—knee-length with a side-opening that exposed delicious skin of her creamy thigh—and stilettos today. Clean-cut and elegant.

“Could…Cassandra draw?”

She asked. Cisserus smiled fondly at the memory, still staring at the drawing.

“She was probably the worst I’ve ever known.”

Natasha grinned lopsidedly.

“So where did you go?”

“The barbershop; I have some catching up to do.”

Cisserus switched to British accent and smirked.

“Don’t go posh on me.”

“Well, I remember you said it was hot.”

Natasha gulped as Cisserus’ got up with a seductive glint in her eyes and stood in front of her; she inched closer, laying her hand on the desk beside and stared down at Natasha, cornering her with her body and smoldering gaze. She could hear her the sound of her own heartbeat getting louder, as Cisserus’ eyes bored into hers.

Cisserus played with a strand of her long brown hair.

“Then I suppose I should…”

_Drop the goddamn accent. _

She leaned forward and Natasha’s breath hitched, feeling Cisserus’ breath and smell expensive perfume.

“…Keep this.”

Natasha glanced sideways as Cisserus had already reached the picture. She backed off as if nothing had happened and walked towards the couch. Natasha exhaled and closed her eyes. She had fallen for the most common move like the ones in the bodice rippers—some stupid secretary, all breast and no brain, falling for the CEO and all that cliché.

“I suppose one of your old friends is the hairdresser?”

“Yes. Tom is a very talented man in our circle. Half of the vampires here go to him for a makeover.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t go there only for that.”

Cisserus shot an approving glance towards her and went to the minibar. She bent down and Natasha quickly tore her eyes away._ Oh dear._

“You are correct. I went there for some intel and, shared my joy of rebirth, thanks to you.”

“Did you find anything useful?”

“Now I have. This hotel actually has something decent.”

Natasha knew Cisserus was holding back something as she grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“It’s Merlo. I insist you try some.”

“What for? And I thought vampires don’t imbibe.”

Cisserus ignored her and opened the bottle, pouring the red liquid in two separate wine glasses.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport.”

She looked at her mischievously and raised the glass. Natasha sighed, took the glass, looked at Cisserus’ expression again, and then took a sip.

The flavor was rich and strong, with a flamboyant and incredibly smooth aftertaste.

Natasha shrugged as Cisserus smiled and took a sip herself.

“Well, not bad, I suppose.”

“For vampires, we’d have to drink gallons to get drunk.”

“And how much can you take?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Natasha took another sip as she felt her cheeks growing warmer.

“Believe it or not, I think I’ll be drunk after this glass.”

Cisserus smirked and stared at Natasha’s rosy cheeks.

“No kidding.”

They chatted lazily for a while; silence occurred on and off without much awkwardness. Natasha learned that Tom, the hairdresser in London was also a vampire, serving under a vampire stem, Gabrielle.

“And you knew his master?”

“We’ve been together for a while back in the seventies.”

Natasha giggled and studied Cisserus’ face. She stared back unflinchingly as if she didn’t understand why Natasha was intrigued.

“And?”

“It was more like a fling.”

She shrugged and looked away. Natasha arched her eyebrow.

“A womanizer like you must have had tons of romantic affairs.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They went quiet for a while.

“My son has been keeping something from me, and I have a bad feeling about it.”

Natasha shot her head up and looked at Cisserus’ slightly troubled expression.

“Why? And how did you find out?”

“During some of our communications, there were some gray…blanks, and whether he’s been doing it intentionally or not, I don’t think I’d like the reason behind it.”

“Gray blanks?”

“You see, telepathic communication requires practice and patience in order to send images, sounds, movements and other complicated things. David and I have been practicing for a while, and we’ve grown quite familiar with how we communicate with each other. However, with him recently, I feel there was something being left out. I cannot explain it very well; it’s more of a sixth-sense thing.”

“Besides him, is there anyone that you can do the non-verbal communicating?”

Cisserus paused and thought for a second.

“My offspring, maybe. I haven’t tried to contact them though.”

“Why?”

Gloom clouded Cisserus’ face, and Natasha could see there were feelings more than regret haunting her.

“They were better without me. People like them were good, innocent, and they deserved better. I was hardly a good influence on them.”

“What happened to them after you were killed?”

Cisserus’ look turned heavy as her eyes darkened like a storm.

“Stacey and Goody teamed up with human and decapitated me. Ivan, my butler, was killed before that because of me. After I died, Stacey would presumably be living happily with her partner, and Goody would pass away because of her natural old age.”

Natasha was initially surprised, but then recognized Cisserus’ ways of the world and who she was before they were forced to form an alliance with each other.

_Things do happen for reasons._

“Well, after coming back to life, you don’t feel like a bad influence to me.”

Natasha said softly, deciding she wasn’t going to ask why she was murdered by her creations. Cisserus blinked, looked into Natasha’s eyes and paused.

“You really think so, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

Natasha smiled and Cisserus didn’t know if she wanted to cry or laugh, because she could only see the golden specs swirling with genuine affection and warmth in her eyes. Cisserus faltered and adverted her gaze.

“So, has the Merlins tried to contact you yet?”

“Yes, and they could be arriving here at any minute.”

Cisserus was glad for the change of subject; she had been trying to avoid her own feelings. She didn’t want to fathom what would happen to them after all of this ended; for the first in a very long time, Cisserus felt the dread of being adrift.

To her realization, the anonymous anxiety behind her unrest, was based on the fear—the fear of losing Natasha, and the fear of her being harmed. She stopped her train of thoughts before she started to psychoanalyze herself about how and when and why she’d started to care for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big revelation!

The Merlins came and picked them up before Natasha had a chance to take a quick nap. They were a group of men and women, dressed in casual outfits, subtle enough not to arouse any attention. However, the solemn, focused look, the scars, and the excessive tattoos might just outdo the effort.

All of them were trained physically in tiptop shape; although they were not visibly packed with weapons, they had an aura of danger.

“Are you sure we are with the good guys?”

“Yes, I saw some familiar faces. They are only more guarded than I expect.”

“What do you mean?”

She knew Cisserus was dismissing the conspicuous tension. They were alone in a van with black opaque windows, blocked to see the driver, traveling in high speed so there was no way they could escape. She knew something was not right, and she bet Cisserus knew it also.

They arrived at some countryside; a shabby, desolated house greeted them, with endless fields and occasional trees in distance. Natasha was in no mood to appreciate the scenery before she and Cisserus were ushered out of the car and into the house.

While they were stepping forward to the unknown, Natasha felt a soft, feminine hand grasping onto her own. She looked at Cisserus with surprise. Cisserus’ jaw was set and there was a solid, determined look in her eyes, but there was also something behind—the warmth and softness of reassurance. Cisserus felt the weight of her gaze and squeezed her hand.

_Everything would be all right._

Of course, it was more than a termite-ridden farmhouse; after they descended to the basement (their footsteps on wooden steps make the damp, moldy air solemn) and walked through a dark aisle. The narrow space suddenly expanded to a majestic hall, high ceiling, with all sorts of paintings and carvings. It was darkened and decayed, with some ambiguous marks and spots indicated that carnage must have had taken place. The roof of the hall was carved and painted with colored symbols—some had appeared as tattoos on the members of Merlins, Natasha recognized.

And then they were alone.

Cisserus didn’t let go of her hand; they proceeded since Cisserus seemed to know where they should be going as they crossed another grand hall loaded with weaponry and vague blood stains on too many areas, into a small shabby room that was out-of-place, sandwiched between the spacious halls.

“Where are we?”

“At Merlin’s workplace. We are supposed to see him here.”

Cisserus let go of her hand and Natasha immediately felt a sense of loss.

“I have no idea that he has really existed.”

“Most of you’d be surprised.”

An ardent male voice with a British accent echoed behind them. She spun around and saw a common young man entering the office and banging the door shut. He was wearing a plain white shirt with a medieval vest and a pair of black jeans; his movements were precise and hasty as if he couldn’t afford any form of waste around him.

“Really? Is that the _look_ you’re going to wear while you talk to us?”

Cisserus joked dryly, not looking too comfortable in the man’s presence; she seemed to regard the stranger as someone dangerous.

“Cisser and I go way back, and I’ve chosen this appearance to be more…amicable.”

The young man offered with a grimace, almost apological, and gestured them to sit on the wooden chair. “I’m certain the look of a thousand-year-old-man could be quite frightening.” He sat behind the desk and poured himself a drink, not bothering to offer them some.

“Are you…?”

“Yes. I’ve been known as Merlin. You must be Natasha.”

Cisserus rolled her eyes.

“Spare us the crap and tell us the truth.”

Natasha was still processing._ So Merlin did some magic tricks to appear as a young man._

“Don’t be so cold. I am happy that you rejoin us on earth.”

Natasha’s attention was caught by the threat laced in the man’s voice. He seemed to be suggesting he could strip away Cisserus’ life any minute. A small muscle spasm flickered across Cisserus’ cheek as she tensed, sitting straighter in her seat.

“You’ve already foreseen that, don’t you?”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?”

Natasha’s voice was small but clear; both Cisserus and the man quieted down.

“You’re going to be more specific.”

“Cisserus is right. Cut the crap and tell me what has been happening to me.”

Cisserus looked at her with uneasy amusement as Merlin chuckled.

“You do sound like Cassandra sometimes, although you are no longer her.”

She could feel Cisserus’ shock without seeing her face, but now she couldn’t offer consolation or anger.

Natasha felt the rage unexplainable rage coiling as she smiled colorlessly.

“Do elaborate, please.”

Merlin cast heavy glances at their faces and splayed his spider-like fingers gracefully on the table.

“You _were_ Cassandra once, after you were killed by Wyetta…I assume that you know she was the biggest threat and evil in England then?”

Natasha nodded; Cisserus remained rigid.

“Well, we came up with an idea that we might be able to use Cisser to infiltrate the evil empire after she was forced to join her side. Unfortunately, she was weaker than we expected. The day she witnessed your funeral, she broke and then submitted herself fully to Wyetta.”

“You were wrong. She was stronger than you think. She joined the rebels later under the reign of that sick bitch.”

Merlin laughed impassively upon seeing her flushed face and defiant look, but the laughter died abruptly when he saw Cisserus’ expression.

“That was because we had already given up on her and invested in another—Alexander. He was our spy in Wyetta’s house, and everything seemed to be going well according to our plan. However, we had not taken into consideration that Alex could fell in love. He was in love with Cisserus.”

Not a trace of shame or redundant emotion could be found on Merlin’s face.

“And that was not our biggest failure. He was polluted and influenced by Wyetta’s thoughts in that poisonous environment; by the time we found out, it was already too late. He’d convinced Cisserus and the members of our crew responsible for wiping out the evil lair to join him. In the end, the strongest of all was Cisser, who had exceeded our expectations and stayed true to her morality--”

“How could you?”

Cisserus finally spoke, voice eerily low with tension, wobbling to stay as calm as she could. “How could you manipulate our lives and not feeling sorry?” Natasha’s heart only broke for knowing how much pain she must be in now.

“Believe me, young lass. If I feel sorry for every single mistake I’ve made and every wrong choice since the day of my existence, the Merlins wouldn’t be here, and trust me, the world would be in a place worse than hell.”

“So what you’re saying is, if you have the power, you get to decide what was right and what was wrong?”

Natasha asked as her anger spiked the highest with her fists clenched. Cisserus shifted in her seat as she noticed it had turned abnormally hot in this room; the heat was radiating from Natasha, picking up by her vampire senses.

“I am burdened with the bigger picture.”

He answered coolly, unapologetic.

“It was my misjudgment. Alexander and the team betrayed Merlins and turned into an organization that was as powerful as we were, utilizing magic that was not from this world, and one day it would get out of their hands and destroy the whole world—I’ve foreseen it.”

“Why didn’t you warn Cisserus or tell her something?”

“Because we already have the next best thing, her son.”

All of a sudden, Natasha saw a blurry object flashed forward to Merlin—there was a gruesome “crack”—and then back to Cisserus’ seat; Merlin was evidently attacked by Cisserus, judging by the blood on his face and a horrid looking dent in his skull.

“Tell me you’ve foreseen that.”

“I’m sorry, but that was the truth. We’ve recruited your son and he stayed on his will. We’d never told him about you.”

“But now he knows.”

“Ah, yes. Your telepathic communication.”

Merlin did a dramatic gesture on his wound and he went back to normal; Cisserus didn’t waver upon seeing the magical display.

“I’ve magic-proofed this room temporarily so he couldn’t be able to receive your message. Now, back to Cassandra.”

Ignoring Cisserus who was seething, his gaze refocused on Natasha. She could see the ruthlessness and age in his eyes, abnormal for his young appearance.

“We would need a human vessel if we extract the powers Alex took from Wyetta under the strict rule: the vessel must be someone alive who’d been a victim of the power. We’ve selected Cassandra.” “Why her of all the countless lives Wyetta took?” Natasha asked, but Merlin treated the question like air.

“We’ve resurrected her and put her under, what would you call it, in ‘zombie mode’ under David’s control after he went to America. Rest assured, he didn’t know what he was doing since we didn’t want things to blow up and him having a bad relationship with mummy dearest. Through nearly three hundred years, she lived in New York alone on auto-pilot with different identities and jobs, avoiding the crowds. We were not afraid of her running into Cisserus, because we’d cast a certain spell on her which I wouldn’t go into details. After Cisser died, we decided there was no point investing so much energy and magic on Cassandra, so we’ve lifted some spells, giving pieces of the current conscious back to her. Things backfire quickly not because you miraculously remembered all of the things in the past, it’s because we’ve underestimated the impact—how all that magic must have had changed you all those years. Our evaluation was again, wrong in some degree since you’ve absorbed too much magic throughout the years. You being able to do things normal people can’t…I suppose you can rewrite reality in some ways, correct?”

_The switchblade and the magical closet._

After processing all the information, Natasha curtly nodded and listen to what Merlin had to offer.

“You are capable of so much more things—you single-handedly brought Cisserus back from hell and killed a werewolf. Then, you started to chase after total freedom—unconsciously or not. We’ve decided to keep it this way since you are considered a valuable asset, and you’ve never ceased to amaze us. You could be the next Merlin, Natasha.”

Cisserus was screaming in silent but in this state of shock, she couldn’t make a sound. For a second, she thought Natasha was going to surrender to fame and power.

“I’ll never be someone manipulative and heartless like you.”

She answered firmly and coldly to Cisserus’ relief.

“Now, tell me, why did I bring Cissy—Cisserus back in the first place? Why do I always have those unexplainable urges or instincts? And how do you explain the flashbacks?”

“Your conscious had long been in a confused state, now trying desperately to be rid of all the restraining magic; Your destiny has already been intertwined with too many complicated things beyond the depth of our magic; With Cisserus, with Wyetta, with Alex, with David, with me—you became The Mystery.”

“You mean the book?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“When you flipped through the pages, you discovered that it was blank. You couldn’t see the content because it had chosen you to be its next master. The only person in this world that could channel the darkened power back to where it belongs, is you, Natasha.”

“Does that mean the wolf-cult has no idea how they should do with the empty book right now?” “Correct.” Natasha let out a breath.

“That means we still have time to figure out what’s in my head. And I should do more than beat the crap out of you for what you’ve done to all of us.”

Merlin shrugged.

“Again, someone has to make the tough calls.”

“You still didn’t say why you chose me, why Cassandra of all people.”

He stayed silent and stared at the crystal ball on the desk. Cisserus was clenching her fists, sitting rigidly in her seat. Natasha couldn’t tell if Merlin was picking the words to answer or deciding he was not going to answer at all.

“And why don’t you lift all of the spells on me? What would happen if I get total freedom?”

“The flashbacks were proof, that your head would soon be overloaded with unexplainable things and memories, and that will ultimately kill you. You head was enough for Natasha, bringing back other consciousness that had existed in your head will likely destroy your current state of existence.”

“Cisserus has survived what you’ve put her through for hundreds of years, and she is still alive and well, facing you right now.” Natasha gulped and leaned forward to emphasize her point, word by word, “I believe I can do the same.”

_Believe._

Suddenly, it was like a bomb ticked off in Natasha’s head then _exploded_. Her vision was brightened for thousands and millions of pictures, all flashing by her eyes, causing her to squint her eyes shut, but it was no use. Sounds blared and echoed in her head, reverberating loudly. All the images and voices made Natasha dizzy as she fell from the chair, clutching her head and cried out in discomfort. The painful pressure lasted for seconds, minutes or hours.

And then it was darkness, the lovely darkness that felt so right.

“What have you done? What happened to her?”

Cisserus lifted her and put her on a sofa nearby, feeling the sickening panic rose from the pit of her stomach and the speed that this room was spinning; Merlin only smiled softly, unperturbed, as if he was reminiscing.

“She _believed_.”


	10. Chapter 10

In the warm, velvet darkness, Natasha walked (_or was she floating?_) until her limbs were losing conscious; she desperately wanted to rest (_just for a little while…_). The blackness felt sweet but also paralyzing.

She needed an escape because this didn’t feel right; she needed to fight for the light.

As if her wish was heard, something flickered from afar. She summoned the last bit of strength and walked towards the only thing that was not black, but she was already too tired.

_“Let go.” _It was a familiar voice. Her voice in British accent rang in the dark, spiky and rough.

“Who are you?”

_“I am you. I’m Cassandra.”_

“But I’m Natasha.”

The voice paused for a second.

_“Yes, I suppose. But do you know what you’re reaching for ahead?” _It sounded tired and relieved, as if Cassandra was happy she was going to stay who she was.

“No. But I know I don’t belong here.”

_“Nat, we belong to the darkness. We are already dead; this is where we should reside.”_

“You are dead. I’m alive.”

_“How do you know you’re making the right choice?”_

Natasha paused for a second, yet she kept on trudging towards her destination.

“I don’t. But I still need to try. I need to…to believe.”

It paused. Natasha had the strangest feeling that the voice had known her answers before she uttered them out loud.

_“Sometimes giving up and accept reality is the best choice.”_

“I haven’t tried, so how do I know it’s time for me to give up? And we both know that it’s not the time to make the best choices for us; it’s time to make the right choices for them.”

_Them. _

_Cisserus, David, Merlin, the Merlins—_

The not-black-thing that was flickering got closer.

_Mike in the hotel, the Uber guy who gave them a lift, other innocents _

_she may have had known in her vagabonding days—_

She was not only doing this for _them_.

She was also doing this for Natasha, for_ herself_.

She woke up with a loud gasp, filling her lungs with the grimy, damp air. Natasha coughed violently; the cold air felt like an intrusion, but she breathed in the life nonetheless. Her breath evened as the air no longer stung, and she blinked the cough-fit-tears away, letting it moisture her dry eyes.

Cisserus was gripping her hands, looking at her intently with red-rimmed eyes and a frightened expression. Natasha was lying on a couch in Merlin’s room, and the host was nowhere to be found.

“That bastard.”

The words burst like a knife cutting jelly, and Cisserus laughed hysterically with relief; she let go of Natasha’s hands as if she suddenly found the gesture ridiculous. Wiping the tears away, Cisserus sat down on the wooden chair. Natasha wanted to ask what had happened; as she traced her thoughts back, she vaguely knew about what she’d done.

“Oh god.”

Natasha murmured under her breath; her lips and tongue felt like lead. Her throat was sore, reminding her of the screaming before passing out.

She must have had lifted all of the spells on her by herself.

“I died again, right?”

No answer.

Cisserus’ body had stopped trembling, now alarmingly motionless. There was a weary slouch of her shoulders as if she’d lost all her strength. Natasha couldn’t quite make out the state Cisserus was in while she stared at her silhouette, waiting for the blood to flow through her body.

After three quiet minutes, she figured out what had happened.

_—she chose to live as Natasha, not as Cassandra or other personas under the spells, but just Natasha—_

She sat up, feeling the blood circulation was back to normal. Her mouth was dry.

Only days ago when tied to the bedpost, Natasha wanted a glass of water also; her grin turned to a grimace when she saw the glass of water, appearing on the desk in front of the wooden chair.

So many things had happened in such a short time.

Natasha stood up and tested her muscles, then walked towards the table. After she chugged down the water, she leaned on the desk and studied Cisserus’ face. Cisserus was staring into the void, withdrawn, paler than table linen; a thin strand of hair was sticking to her face because of the tears, and her brows were knitted.

Natasha hurt all over for her; she couldn’t fathom how vulnerable Cisserus was feeling after dealing with the information and emotions. She knew she was a strong woman, but right now, Natasha just wanted Cisserus to crumble, so she could help her pick up the pieces.

She reached out with a shaking hand and tucked a strand of Cisserus’ hair behind her ear; Cisserus closed her eyes and let out a tremulous breath. Another droplet of tear ran free across her cheek; she was so exquisitely heartbroken like this.

_Beautiful._

She wiped the tear away and cupped Cisserus’ face, too gently, in the palm of her hands. Natasha couldn’t help but let her gaze swept over her face again, taking in every little detail and flaw that made Cisserus perfect.

She leaned in timidly, inch by inch, kissing the tear-stained cheek softly. Cisserus didn’t tremble nor was she pushing her away; her eyelashes only fluttered ever so slightly.

Natasha planted a chaste kiss on another side of her cheek, and she caressed Cisserus’ jawline with featherlike touches. Her prominent jawline didn’t cut the way she imagined; it felt smooth as silk beneath her hand. She waited for any kind of rejection as she kissed Cisserus again on the bridge of her nose, and trailing her right hand down to her neck, cradling the soft, smooth skin that cooled off her overheated touches.

Cisserus shivered and opened her eyes. Natasha held her breath.

She was no longer grief-stricken nor was her expression pinched; Cisserus was looking at Natasha in awe like she was a miracle—like she was the only thing on the world that mattered, and she couldn’t believe all of this was true.

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice was thick with emotions. Cisserus smiled genuinely and _shimmered_ with all shades of warmth making Natasha so hot and cold at the same time. Cisserus unwounded some tension and straightened herself a little to nuzzle into Natasha’s hand; Natasha’s heart skipped a beat at the affectionate act.

“Hey.” It was a response that lingered between cracking and raspy; it could mean anything and everything. Natasha took it as the answer to all of the things she hadn’t figure out, and all of the feelings she didn’t understand.

Natasha leaned in and brushed her lips against Cisserus’, eliciting a soft gasp. Then she pressed her lips on hers again, still gentle, giving her time to back out. But Cisserus didn’t; instead, she moved her lips against Natasha’s, making her stomach flip, heart beating faster.

They moved together effortlessly, in languor, in sync.

Then she inhaled sharply as Cisserus stood up, pushed her body forward, and they molded their bodies together, flush. She twined her hand in Natasha’s while and they parted shortly for Natasha to catch her breath. She saw lust and other vulnerable things in Cisserus’ eyes—_she wants her; she needs her._ They crushed their lips together, more firmly and desperate this time, as if they couldn’t stand to be apart.

Natasha let her hands wander from Cisserus’ hair, her shoulders, her lower back, and then her hips. She pulled Cisserus closer forcibly, eliciting an unexpected, sensual cry that made Natasha dizzy with excitement. She felt nails raking her thighs that fueled her arousal, and she jolted forward unwillingly for the delicious fiction. Cisserus grasped her waist and sucked on her lower lip; Natasha moaned in her mouth; she was going to combust for the pleasure and lightheadedness—

Then she tore away, flustered, leaving Natasha on the desk feeling very aroused and disappointed.

“Why did you stop?”

“I need to feed.” Cisserus turned and faced her with her fangs outstretched. The air was caught in Natasha’s lungs.

“Was it because of…?”

“Yes.” Cisserus growled and fixed her hair and blouse.

“I have a proposition.” Natasha cocked her head and husked; Cisserus’ head shot up at her direction. She took in Natasha’s state: her rosy cheeks, flushed body, mussed-up hair and parted lips, blood-red from their previous intense kiss. Cisserus didn’t know if it was Natasha’s evident arousal, the sound of her frantic pulse, the fact she hadn’t feed for a while, or all these combined, making her so hungry and desperate.

What she knew was that Natasha was offering _danger_, and this was not the perfect time. She doubted to lose control though; Cisserus had chosen to let herself find solace when taking pleasure in destroying the lives of the innocent. For a long time, that was enough for her—climbing up to the peak of excessive intake of blood—but it was never meant to be enough. The highs after the kills, the feeling of empty power and control, served as narcotics to her pain.

Drugs, not medicine.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Natasha shifted closer, putting a temporary stop to her inner monolog. She started to caress Cisserus’ frigid arm with tentative strokes; she sighed, adverted her gaze and covered Natasha’s warm hand with her cooler one.

“You zoned out on me.” She lifted their conjoined hands, and brought Cisserus’ near her lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Cisserus frowned and chided herself for feeling touched by the ridiculous chivalry, then was worried about her feelings—afraid and elated, for feeling so much for the woman she’d learn to accept in a couple of days. Too many things required her to process better; no matter how well she took the truth, she wouldn’t be good enough for Natasha.

And according to her experience, people adore _enigma_, not sophistication.

“Hey, we can take it slow.”

Natasha stifled other sentimental comments as she read Cisserus’ face. One thing that Natasha absolutely loved about Cisserus, was her she richness…so intense and strong, a lush creature, having so much more for her to taste and learn.

She let go of Cisserus’ hand to give her some space.

“What would happen next?”

“Merlin said, you need some time to rest to be in your best condition, that is, if you wake up at all. He wouldn’t explain the details and he bailed, leaving me with--”

Cisserus’ gaze drifted to the couch where Natasha previously laid. She bristled.

“He’s such a dick.” Cisserus stared at Natasha for her crass outburst.

“At least we made out in his office. That serves him right.” Natasha deadpanned and fixed her hair into a messy ponytail. Cisserus only stared, incredulous.

“I say we get out of this dingy place and kick whoever’s ass if they try to stop us.”

A faint smile crept onto Cisserus’ face to Natasha’s relief. She took Cisserus’ hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Together, they swiftly got out of the dreadful, mazelike headquarter, with no one daring to stop them along the way.

***

In the taxi with a heavy smell of second-handed-smoke (Cisserus couldn’t call Uber because there was no WIFI in the middle of nowhere); the driver kept throwing glances at the odd couple: one tall, with a solemn look and strange relief, another serene, exhausted but happy. They didn’t talk with each other but their hands were entangled the whole time as if they could communicate that way.

Natasha was enjoying herself as _Natasha_ only; she felt lighter, clearer and sharper as the voices reduced significantly in her head, no longer filled with murmurs and floating sensations. She also felt more powerful—like a rock in the storm; firm, solid, focused and peaceful. However, after lifting all that magic and presumably eliminating multiple egos, she was physically spent. Natasha forced herself to stay awake in the car. It was too good to be true if the Merlins let them go just like this—Natasha needed to stay sharp in case of ambushes from sneaky warlocks or werewolf-sect. As for Cisserus, she wasn’t that worried.

Natasha believed they could be something more after their first kiss, and oh _god_ was that the best kiss she’d ever had; her lips were still prickling, reminding her to control her thoughts to _not_ revisit that steamy situation, or she would catch more attention from the driver for the dreamy smile on her face.

Cisserus was deep in her thoughts; it was obvious that horrible memories had occurred on and off as Cisserus’ hand would suddenly squeeze hers too tight, like a spasm, and Natasha would comfort her by squeezing her knuckles back. She had faith in her; she was proud of Cisserus even. Reality may not be taken well, but if Cisserus had managed to handle them so far, she would definitely find a way out of this. Cissy would do the right thing……

Natasha mumbled incoherently about Merlin and her son while dragging herself towards the bed, collapsing into a heap of deep slumber when her head touched the pillow. Cisserus covered her body with a thick blanket and smiled, the expression a little foreign on her face while recalling their sensual kiss—that took a rather _filthy_ turn—back at Merlin’s office. She brushed a strand of Natasha’s hair out of her face and caressed her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft; Cisserus thought she would distress over the final perish of Cassandra’s being. Instead, she felt being freed from one more burden. She wanted to kiss her all over again because Cisserus knew she would be kissing _Natasha_ from now on.

She planted the softest kiss on Natasha’s forehead and lay down beside her in gentle movements.

David knew, the moment when Natasha lifted all of the enchantments; he was infuriated. After knowing the context of the story after a brief investigation, he requested Merlin’s presence by threatening to quit, dismantling the whole branch of Merlins on the east coast. He really valued David as an Elder—that was perhaps why Merlin left Cisserus with then-dead-Natasha without further explanation or forced-apologies. Their telepathic communication ended there since Merlin and David may have had started a heated negotiation; Cisserus was not so worried about her son. A lot of times, she felt that he was the smarter and older one.

She drifted to sleep with Natasha’s scent enveloping, intoxicating, hypnotizing her, ignoring the pressing hunger for blood.

What Cisserus wanted now, was the peace and comfort Natasha had to offer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smut ensues!

Groggily opening her eyes, Natasha felt something warm against her. She realized Cisserus had fallen asleep half-tucking her chin on her shoulder. It was a heart-warming gesture; for the next ten minutes or so, Natasha laid still, watching Cisserus’ serene profile, and the peaceful rises and falls of her chest.

Until she desperately needed to pee.

She showered after, realizing how earthy she smelled, and how she looked like the previous self who was not entirely _her. _She needed an act to prove she was indeed _different_.

Natasha went out of the bathroom and found Cisserus, just stirring up. She stretched lethargically like a lazy predator, and she immediately started from appreciating the endearing moment of tumbled hair and sleep-daze, to the inviting flesh that Cisserus exposed under her blouse.

“Hey, my face is up here.”

Her voice was raspy and unused from sleep; Natasha’s heart jumped some irregular beats, and she smirked. She went beside her as Cisserus sat up idly.

“It’s entirely your fault.”

Cisserus blinked as Natasha reached out and stroked her cheek with affection.

She was all rosy and warm after the shower, hair slightly dripping; Cisserus could feel the heat radiating from her petite body, and the warmer touches on her face that seemed to seep in her cold bones, waking up all her senses at once. Something in Cisserus quaked started to burn.

She intercepted her hand rather forcibly and studied Natasha’s expression.

She was surprised for the abrupt motion; hurt and confusion fleeted by before Cisserus figured out her strange behavior. She had been preoccupied with the sound of delicious blood coursing Natasha’s veins and her heartbeat, how her breath became uneven when Cisserus’ eyes darkened with desire, how her pulse quicken when she decided to pull her close by the collar and crash their lips together. Natasha let out a muffled squeak, but reciprocated promptly with the same enthusiasm, using Cisserus’ shoulder as support.

She came alive all over again, every part of her, the vampire and the human roared with ecstasy, wanting _more_. Natasha climbed and maneuverer so she could have better access to Cisserus’ kiss; something—_desire_—sizzled up Cisserus’ spine, overwhelming her. She pulled Natasha closer, making her gasp in her mouth.

“Are you trying to manhandle me?”

She broke their kiss and questioned breathily, amused and aroused. Cisserus didn’t answer her verbally; she just stared with a look that made Natasha shiver, and trailed her finger from her jawline to her neck, feeling the pulse, the _life_ there. Her mouth watered and she yanked Natasha’s hair, exposing her neck; Cisserus left a trail of hot kisses on the smooth skin. Natasha let out a choked sigh. Then she gave the hottest mewl that Cisserus hadn’t heard in ages as she found the softest spot and nipped, savoring the sweet, enticing taste. Natasha started to pant as Cisserus chuckled throatily.

“And you don’t seem to be complaining, dear.”

“What has gotten into you?”

Natasha managed before she became too far gone to care. The least she wanted now was to stop; she put some distance and searched Cisserus’ face, seeing her dilated pupils and stretched-fangs, lips swollen.

“I want you, Nat.”

She nearly crumbled when she heard those words coming out of Cisserus’ mouth. She brushed Natasha’s wet hair behind her ear; Natasha smiled and caressed her cheek.

“And I am yours, Cissy.”

She recoiled with fear when mentioning her name like that; Natasha read her expression carefully, but Cisserus didn’t show much in her glassy eyes.

“Is it ok to call you that?”

Cisserus searched her eyes and nodded faintly; Natasha smiled and averted her gaze.

“Hey,”

Cisserus entangled their hands together, catching Natasha’s attention again, blues boring into the browns.

“It’s all right.”

She relaxed; Natasha leaned closer as Cisserus’ lips met her halfway. They kissed unhurriedly, sensual and slow; Natasha experimentally swept her tongue over Cisserus’ upper lip, and registered a sting. Cisserus let out an uneven moan; the sound made Natasha boneless. She licked the blood from Natasha’s accidental cut by her fang, and hummed with delight. The vibration sent a wave of pleasure down Natasha’s spine and she buckled, ground on Cisserus’ lap unintentionally but instinctively. A hot wave of arousal hit as Natasha sucked in a sharp breath; Cisserus started to undo the bathrobe with nimble fingers and all Natasha could think about in her lustful daze was how irritating the clothing was and how she wished they connecting flesh to flesh—

The next minute, they were looking at each other in naked shock. Natasha got exactly what she wanted

“What—I didn’t—”

Cisserus laughed breathlessly with her forehead pressing on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Dear, your skills come quite in handy.”

Natasha blushed even harder as she finally accepted the situation they were in. She shifted experimentally, dizzy and hot for how delicious the skin-on-skin contact was, and discovered she was embarrassingly wet, dripping on Cisserus’ lap.

Cisserus leaned back lazily and studied her expression as Natasha drank in all of her— her sculptured neck, her prominent collarbone, her full, perky breasts, and her flat stomach.

_Perfection._

The blue eyes turned impossibly dark before Natasha let out an uneven breath.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

She murmured in awe as Cisserus smirked, then closed her eyes in content when Natasha’s hand made contact with skin, trailing from her neck to her breast. Natasha leaned in and pushed Cisserus down gently. Heart thundering in her ears, Natasha started to nip on her earlobe and neck as her hands wander further _down_. A sensual tremor rose from Cisserus as she palmed her soft breast; her nipples were rock hard. Natasha maneuvered, taking in Cisserus’ form again and shivered when their eyes connected; they were both breathing irregularly.

“This is…the first time for me.”

Natasha blurted out after she got up to give Cisserus a wet, sloppy kiss. Cisserus smiled a little, unfazed. She gave Natasha a quick peck on the lips, then suddenly flipped them both, eliciting a squeal.

“Don’t worry…”

Cisserus’ purred, looking down at Natasha with a saucy smirk.

“I’ll show you, exactly what I want.”

Her head short-circuited as Cisserus covered her creamy breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. Natasha’s response got caught in her throat as she arched her back uncontrollably, begging for more contact.

Cisserus marveled at the erotic sight as she moved down slowly, studying Natasha’s expression as she sucked in a nipple; Natasha moaned and Cisserus decided it was the most beautiful sound she’d heard this century. She moved on to caressing the other, memorizing Natasha’ look the whole time: cheeks flush, lips apart and swollen, face contorting with pain and pleasure.

Cisserus grazed her flat stomach, the vampire inside screaming to just _take a bite at the juicy flesh—_

She did when she was near Natasha’s center, sinking her teeth teasingly down on her inner thigh; Natasha let out a strangled moan, grabbing onto the bedsheets as if the pleasure was too much to bear. She was amazingly wet and swollen, the heady smell of her arousal making Cisserus dizzy with want, but she forced herself to slow down.

Natasha’s whole body was vibrating, and she would come at any minute; she only got wetter, noticing Cisserus was staring at her the whole time while she kissed and nip and _teased_. She was burning, making a bunch of unapologetically obscene noises.

She pulled Cisserus up and gave her a bruising, demanding kiss.

“Cissy,”

She stared into the brown eyes, realizing how shallow her breath had become; Cisserus caressed her waist, sending more goosebumps down Natasha’s spine.

“Please.”

She guided her hand and pressed her palm on her slickness. Natasha bit her lip, stifling a cry as Cisserus gasped for how wet and hot she became. Natasha kissed her shakily again as Cisserus slipped a finger into her wetness.

Natasha arched off the bed and hissed for the overwhelming intrusion. She rolled her hips for more friction as Cisserus add another finger into her slick heat.

“Yessss…”

She curled her fingers experimentally and Natasha cried out, the sound echoing in the hotel room. Cisserus leaned in and bit on Natasha’s sensitive neck, eliciting another hiss of excitement.

She started to pump her fingers in and out, in an agonizing slow motion, savoring the expression on Natasha’s face.

_Exquisite._

Natasha started to whimper, moaning incoherently, urging Cisserus to go faster. She traced her thumb over Natasha’s clit, and she mouthed a silent “O”, bucking her hips for more friction.

Cisserus took her cue and thrust, meeting the buckle of her hips, pressing and rubbing her clit in unpredictable patterns. A sheen of perspiration was forming on Natasha’s forehead as she gripped the bedsheet and cried. The sight made the human inside of Cisserus frantically aroused, the vampire needy for the hot blood that was currently coursing fast in Natasha’s arteries.

Natasha felt like she was going to fall apart as she threaded her fingers through Cisserus’ hair.

“Please…don't…. stop”

She didn’t. Her thrust became faster and rougher as her thumb manipulated her clit in earnest, making Natasha scream in pleasure.

Then Cisserus felt the muscles convulsing violently, squeezing her fingers; Natasha arched her back as she groaned and shook, swimming in the aftershock of the orgasm. The muscles of her abdomen cramped when Cisserus pulled her fingers out while holding Natasha’s misty gaze, licking every drop of her essence clean.

Natasha blushed profusely; she pulled Cisserus close and kissed her languidly, tasting herself in her mouth.

Cisserus smiled against her lips and laid down beside her.

“I need a moment.”

Natasha offered shakily and Cisserus turned around, studying Natasha’s profile.

Her hair was dried and mussed up, cheeks in healthy pink—the after-glow, to be precise. There was a faint smile of content on her face as she giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“That was the best I’ve ever have.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Cisserus raised her brows as Natasha smirked and flipped also, looking down at Cisserus, propping her chin on the heel of her palm.

“I want to let you drink my blood.”

The burn beneath Cisserus’ gum returned and increased tenfold; she sighed a jagged breath.

“I won’t lose control, rest assured--”

“No, I’m not doubting.” Cisserus’ expression turned dour; she licked her lips and averted her gaze. “There is something I’m not sure; we have a rather uncommon connection. My soul had a part of yours, literally, and I don’t know what that factor would do.”

“Why don’t we find out?” Natasha arched her eyebrow, with a defiant, challenging glint in her eyes. “Don’t you want to?” Cisserus swallowed and gasped as Natasha climbed to sit on top of her.

Cisserus growled and sat up, staring into Natasha’s eyes.

_“Yes.”_

She swept Natasha’s hair to expose her neck, recognizing the love bites from previous activities. Her own need was suddenly too much to bear as Cisserus was again, mesmerized by how the blood pulses deliciously beneath Natasha’s alabaster skin. She shivered as Cisserus planted a chaste kiss on her overheated neck. “You smell absolutely _divine_.” She purred. Natasha smiled a little nervously as she caressed the smooth expense of the skin on Cisserus’ back, heart pounding loudly in her ears.

Cisserus let the unique aroma of Natasha—shampoo, lavender, and just _her—_to overcome all the senses; her mouth water. A painful throb started to build steadily between her legs.

She’d almost forgotten how all of this would feel, and the possibility to be this turned on; Natasha tensed and relaxed as Cisserus started to nibble her tender neck, breathing irregularly as she enjoyed the sensation. The arousal started to pool again in the pit of her stomach.

Natasha let her own hands wander while Cisserus caressed her neck, and she started from stroking her slender waist to her inner thighs. She elicited a delicious shiver from Cisserus as she drew nearer to her arousal, taking immense pride that she also made her feel this way. She tentatively covered Cisserus’ wetness; Cisserus jerked, mewling breathily in Natasha’s neck, making her flush all over again for the most erotic sound she’d ever heard.

“What are you doing to me?”

Cisserus mumbled in her neck as she grazed her fangs over the skin once more; Natasha chuckled throatily, more confident, relishing in Cisserus’ moment of defencelessness.

“Giving you some incentives.”

Cisserus moaned loudly and arched her back as Natasha used the wetness she gathered from Cisserus’ arousal, rubbing her engorged clit unhurriedly. She could do so much more if they were at a better angle, but judging by her response and quiver, she’d done just enough.

Cisserus realized how far gone she was as the sound of her wetness echoed in her ears; she couldn’t stop anymore when the uncontrollable urge to devour the flesh vibrating with energy took over.

And she did.

Cisserus bit down harshly and Natasha cried, half for pain, and the impossible pleasure that she seemed to feel when her fangs sank in her veins. Somehow, Natasha kept touching her as Cisserus shook and crumbled and _drank_.

The most magical thing of this was, Natasha could feel Cisserus’ waves of pleasure when they were connecting, and the blood that was transfusing between them was like a sparkle. Natasha could feel herself being weaker, drained, but at the same time, she was getting stronger and fuller because Cisserus was, too; they were one energy cycle, sharing and feeling and _climbing_.

Cisserus could _taste_ their connection the moment she bit down; she came promptly, a rush of liquid wetting Natasha’s hand as she savored the very first drop of Natasha’s blood. It was sweeter than anything she’d ever tasted, bitter and flamboyant, so rich; to say she was ambrosia would be an understatement. She was the ecstasy, the pain, and the happiness, and too many things combined that proved Natasha’s existence.

The moment was exhilarating and gloriously timeless. Cisserus finally left her neck, licking the cut so she could heal instantaneously. They let their heartbeats slowed back to normal as their foreheads touched, and they stayed that way for a while, enjoying the peace after the storm.

“How do I taste?” Natasha pulled back a little and smiled, tucking a strand of Cisserus’ hair behind her ear. Cisserus smirked and licked her lips.

“The best I’ve ever had.”

“Flatter would get you nowhere.”

“I doubt that.”

Natasha felt Cisserus’ eyes focusing and sharpened into predatory again; she chastised herself for being so easily aroused.

“How do you feel?” Cisserus stroked her cheek and Natasha melt into her touch. “A little lightheaded, but strangely satisfied. You bring out masochist in me.”

“Hmm, we could certainly explore that in the future.” Cisserus leaned in and left a peck on the tip of Natasha’s nose.

“But I am going to need a shower.”

“Can I join?”

Cisserus’ lips curled in satisfaction for the bold suggestion. “You need to rest and replenish, dear. That is, if you want to do this all over _again_.”

Natasha felt meek again; goosebumps rose all over as she heard the seductive purr at the end of Cisserus’ sentence. Seeing her standing up in naked grace did no help to fuel her new-found courage. Cisserus was doing this on purpose, putting her body on confident display, knowing she was fascinated with her every movement as she went to the shower with extra sways of hips.

_This woman will be the death of her._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final battle and fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it finally comes to the last chapter...

After room service and getting dressed, they huddled together and watched some noir flick on TV; it became surprisingly domestic.

Natasha wore a black turtleneck and a pair of white-washed jeans as Cisserus wore a simple long-sleeved cream-white blouse and a pair of grey slacks.

Cisserus almost wept for being this carefree. However, a part of her was still dancing on wires uncontrollably like a dirty habit; since her vampire days started, times like this were too rare and expensive to afford. Either it was not real, or a stab in the back would occur sooner or later.

“Hey.” Natasha whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You are thinking too loud.”

“Am I?”

“Penny?”

A small smile crept on the edge of Cisserus’ lips; she recalled when Natasha asked her back in the U.S and the time on the plane in reverse.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“And you’re worrying…?”

Cisserus sighed, partly in awe of Natasha’s perceptiveness. Natasha shifted a little and played with Cisserus’ slender fingers lazily.

“How was David?”

“He was still busy with Merlin, and I’m fine with whatever he decided to do, whether if he quits or kicks the bastard right in his manhood.”

“Ouch.” Natasha grinned. “Are you two always like this?”

“Me and Merlin?”

“Well, I was going to ask about you and your son, but I would also be interested in you and Merlin.”

A slight pause went by as Cisserus selected the words carefully.

“He’s the most powerful man I’ve ever known; the way he stood with all that knowledge, ability, and didn’t waver or crumble, the way he chooses this dark perilous path of immortality on the opposite side of being evil, the way he sacrifices, losing again and again…”

Cisserus took an uneasy breath; the tension made Natasha feel the pressure and responsibility of being that man.

“Although I can never forgive what he did to me and my family, I could understand him, and that was the right thing for someone in his position to do.”

“So you knew about the Merlins because of David?”

“Yes. You see, they were better than me to David. I was a bad mother. I’m not a good mother still.”

“Sounds like you and your son had a rocky start.”

“For the first hundred years, perhaps.”

“He forgave you?”

“He not only forgave me; he embraced me and learned to love me. David grew and matured with the Merlins, and it was a cruel environment. He was forced to face and accept things that could scar a child for life; but he was strong, and he had Merlin. I am forever in debt to him; Merlin was perhaps not a kind man, but he was a good teacher, and a good father to David. David has a lot of qualities that I could never have nurtured if he was with me. Those essentials have made him a better man; a good, kind man that I don’t deserve. David never loses his faith in me; time and again I pushed him away because his hope was too heavy to bear.”

“How about now?”

“I am not sure if I can be the mother he wants.”

Cisserus’ eyelashes fluttered. Natasha straightened up and put her hands around her, kissing her hair.

“Be who you want to be. I’m sure he wanted nothing more except for you to be happy.”

“He was the only family that’s left; what if I fail him again, and he finally got tired?”

“No, he won’t.”

Cisserus put some distance to look at Natasha, a little surprised to hear the decisive answer so quick.

“And he’s not your only family.”

She studied her expression. Natasha was seriously stony but soft on the edges, or maybe it was the tears prickling in her eyes that made Natasha’s profile blurry; she looked at her until everything blurred together except for her blue eyes, sharp and wistful. Cisserus wondered for a while: maybe Natasha actually remembered all the times she roamed on this earth alone, and she was older, cleverer, slyer, crueler than she looked.

Her inner turmoil was disrupted into a sea of bliss as Natasha leaned in and kissed her, languid and loving; she felt nothing but being so cherished in the touch.

She cupped Natasha’s cheeks to deepen the kiss.

Their make-out session was painfully interrupted as the door banged open. Natasha bolted and detangled from her, breathless and pink. Cisserus stood up and regained composure in seconds as Natasha was still in a trance, watching Cisserus plastering the stoic apathy.

“It’s still considered rude for you to enter our room like this.”

Merlin walked towards the living room as if he owned this place. He stared at them unapologetically.

“You need to come with me at once. They’ve found out about Natasha’s connection with The Mystery.”

Natasha snapped out of her haze. Cisserus was unperturbed as she fixed her hair, smoothening her blouse. Natasha stood up and followed suit; gazes were thrown at her simultaneously, one cold, calculating and amused, another intense, affectionate, comforting.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t know what you did in my office. By the way, it’s nice to have you back, Natasha.”

He gave her a tight smile that was more like a grimace; Cisserus snorted and Natasha rolled her eyes.

They left the room of comfort into the hostile cold, joining by heavy guards that sandwiched them all the way to the van.

***

“I have a feeling that we’re not simply seeking refuge in the wings of Merlins.”

“Yes, I’m afraid not.”

Merlin looked at the long-haired woman who was staring at him defiantly. Cisserus’ amusement was almost audible as Natasha stayed quiet, curious about what the warlock had to explain.

He sighed heavily that made Cisserus’ heart sank. Something big was going to happen, and neither of them would like it. Knowing that Merlin was holding something back filled Cisserus’ heart with dread.

“After we—”

Merlin was cut off as the car suddenly echoed with a loud “thud” of metal clashing together.

“Was someone _shooting_ at us?”

Merlin didn’t answer Natasha as he concentrated and drew up something in the air with his bare hands in rapid, keen movements. Natasha watched in awe as the invisible mark glimmered into a burning symbol then sank in the floor, making the air unbearably hot for a moment.

“Invisible spell. We’re changing routs, ladies.”’

“Why didn’t you just fight back?”

“Because there were too many of them.”

The car, as if answering to Merlin’s will, took a sharp turn and accelerated. Natasha looked at Cisserus for further explanation, and was alarmed as she saw traces of dread and unease.

She answered Natasha quietly.

“Wolves hunt in packs.”

***

They arrived at the desolated farmhouse with no car at their tail, for now.

_N_atasha started to feel something prickling in her body like an omen. She took a look at Cisserus and realized she was _afraid_.

“Hey.”

Natasha held onto her cold hand despite her own was a little clammy, and gave it a soothing squeeze.

“I have a feeling that this might be the end.”

Cisserus’ voice was barely louder than a whisper; they followed the warlocks towards the house. Natasha looked strangely tranquil and unfazed.

“Then let’s make this a hell of an ending, shall we?”

She glanced at Natasha, less nervous as she saw her lover walking in unwavering strides.

“You look awfully confident.”

“And you love it.”

Cisserus smirked and shook her head as the choking tension unwind a bit.

They descended to one of the many halls; this one was different. It had a bad vibe as if all the misery and haunting emotion were emanating from this enormous room. It had no extravagant décor nor high ceiling except for a wooden altar in front of the room, with a cross nailed on the wall. Just as Natasha was about to question Merlin why he led them to this place, she felt the prickle within turning into violent twinges; the cross fell in a clatter like some exorcist scenes in B movies, as if it had something to do with Natasha’s strange reaction. Cisserus’ head jerked towards the cross then back to Natasha.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just as I thought. She must have a connection with this room.”

“What do you mean?”

Cisserus rubbed her hand on Natasha’s back as she gasped a painful breath and clutched her stomach.

“This was where the book was made in the first place.”

“So you just brought her here for a fucking test? The wolves were never here in the first place?”

“Well, they are definitely here. Listen.”

Preoccupied with tending to Natasha’s discomfort, Cisserus’ vampire hearing unwillingly picked up gruesome echoes of howling, explosion, and bone-breakings outside this very hall.

“I have every intention to bring you here sooner if it weren’t for your son.”

“Don’t you dare go there.”

Cisserus gritted her teeth so hard that Natasha thought she heard them clatter, but she felt too sick, realizing the bones inside of her might snap under the invisible pressure from _within_.

Merlin tried guiding her to the altar when the twinges accelerated into sharp claws digging their way out of her chest; she cried out, shoving Cisserus and Merlin off.

Two pairs of eyes watched in horror as Natasha shook violently, eyes turning white. A gush of hot, sharp wind that smelled like sulfur hurled out from below, attacking harshly in their faces.

Then she stood still.; too still and serene for a human being. It was a horrific look.

Merlin was nervous and concerned, but Cisserus realized he wasn’t surprised.

“Natasha, I know you’re there somewhere.”

“You humans are quite pathetic.”

Her voice was distorted into the particular female that Cisserus knew of. Every hair on her body stood because she thought the creature would the ability to catch whiffs of her fear.

“Wy…Wyetta?”

“So close, Cissy. But I’m so much more than that pathetic whore.”

“You are nothing but some outcast from hell.”

Cisserus whirled around and looked Merlin as he stared unflinchingly back to the monster.

“And, this _outcast_ even had its loyal servants. How about you, Merlin? Ah, so much for the greatest wizard on Earth.”

The demonic voice was hypotonic and sweet, but also dripping with venom. They turned around and found the werewolves had already broken defense the heavy guard outside, now standing in the back, forming in a peculiarly organized style. They lined up, blood dripping down their deformed mouths or oozing out their new wounds.

“Natasha, I know you can do this. Don’t let this monster control you, remember who you are.”

“Shut up.” The creature snarled. “Don’t you think that it’s rather convenient for me to take this girl’s body, especially she’s both the tool and a host? Why don’t you tell them the truth, Merlin?”

“Well, not anymore.”

She wanted to ask him what the hell did that mean before he started to recite a string of incantations loudly; Cisserus could feel how powerful the spell was. Her head was being crushed by invisible pressures, and her senses were deprived of their functions.

The Natasha-Wyetta-demon started to moan loudly with bloody tears oozing out of its eye sockets; Merlin didn’t stop as he marched towards it and grabbed its shoulders. As the last syllables were uttered in forceful stresses, Natasha’s forehead knocked into Merlin’s; an illogically loud “bang” echoed in the ghostlike room, making the werewolves more restless, drooling and scratching the floor with their claws

Natasha staggered away, being who she was again, gasping for air while she clutched her chest.

Merlin wasn’t.

Cisserus rushed forward and was shoved back by an invisible wall; she fell on her hip with a painful grunt as Merlin laughed with inhuman cackles.

Natasha’s eyes were no longer marble white; they were jet-black. _What now? Is she possessed by demon number two?_

“Merlin is such a gullible child.”

The monstrous voice turned into Alex’s, contorted and malicious, coming out of Merlin’s mouth. Natasha’s demeanor was different; she had stopped trembling and her chest was heaving in a peaceful rhythm.

“Cissy, sorry about that. You need to stand back for a while. And don’t be so kind to the dogs back there if they get naughty.”

Natasha turned and looked at her with a faint smile, eyes momentarily back to the steely blues, sending shivers down Cisserus’ spine. She relaxed for a split second then was more fretful than ever, because she could feel how powerful Natasha was right now; a part of her soul was vibrating with Natasha, making her wonder how Natasha could carry all that excessive power.

_Maybe she’s more than a vessel._

“Do you think that casting me out into this body was the right thing to do? Merlin was so much more capable than you.”

“You are to obey my order, my command. You are forever under my control, under the book’s control.”

Natasha’s voice was steady and low as her eyes turned unfathomably black again.

The demon laughed and cooed.

“I could do some wild things to your girlfriend, but if you let me take care of you for a while, I might reconsider.”

Natasha remained motionless as the wretched monster turned abruptly then raised a hand towards Cisserus; she instantly felt an invisible hand around her neck and she gagged. Natasha was suddenly holding the switchblade that came out of nowhere, and aimed it straight to the demon’s shoulder. It cried in surprise when the blade penetrated its shoulder blade with a sickening “crack”; Cisserus was released. Her knees met the floor in a harsh “thud”, the pain shooting up later because she was busy gasping for air.

“You see, you might be oh so powerful by manipulating Merlin’s magic and his body, but I have the ability to alter reality.”

The demon faltered slightly.

A werewolf, premature, suddenly launched to attack Cisserus. Natasha didn’t even look at it as she simply waved a hand, and an invisible wall knocked it back, sending the animal back to its herd, howling with defeat. Slowly, Cisserus watched with amazement: it turned back to a teenage, raven-haired-boy, looking too scared and little to be here.

“He’s not fit for furry-looks, don’t you think? What if I deem, that _you_, are not part of this reality? Don’t you miss your brothers and sisters?”

Natasha cocked her head towards the demon while the newly-transformed servant backed off slowly, wanting to escape. The rest of the pack were getting more anxious than ever, and with a clear sharp whistle from their Demon-master, they attacked the boy, tearing him apart. The underdog’s beg for mercy and screams were muffled by the crunching of his flesh and bones, and there was no sound, only the soft munching, and huffing of the beasts. Cisserus jerked her head away, swallowing down her bile; the foul smell of blood and sweat filled her lungs, raping her senses.

“I know we both despise betrayal.”

The demon cooed in a sickening tone. Cisserus wanted to scream but she doubted she could make any sound in her nauseous state.

_Don’t listen to it! Kill it! It’s lying!_

“So what if I tell you, your favorite wizard was not that _honest_?”

“We knew the truth already.”

“Aren’t you just a tad curious, that if he had known all of this, why did he still permit this horrible event to happen? His prodigies slaughtered, a charming villain like me breaking loose, the future in a _girl’s_ hands?”

Cisserus’ head was all mushy and tired; also her senses were normal, they were overloaded. The ancient evil’s presence and the powerful light pouring out from Natasha’s body was the main cause of the discomfort.

The black magic and the white mingled and clashed, making the air unstable and vaporous.

Natasha smiled, coldly inhumane, then laughed. The sound echoed and quieted the room like a scalpel threatening to cut through flesh, then Cisserus was aware how odd the temperature in this room was: icy winds blew on Natasha’s side while the demon emanated with streams of heat. The tension was so thick that Cisserus wanted to fidget so badly or punch something just for comfort; her heart thudded in her ears.

“Of course I know that. There was just one mistake: I’m a woman.”

“He lied!”

The demon cried; it was getting desperate.

“He did what he had to. The moment you possessed my body and consciousness, you seemed to forget I was sharing your mind, too. Yes, I may be pissed that Merlin didn’t say that he had the ability of time traveling, and he tried, again and again, to go back, altering the decisions he made to prevent the inevitable from happening. And I probably would not stop Cissy from punching him, because he failed, again and again, then he took a bet on me. This reality, this _path_, by far, is the only one that he hadn’t tried before, and you can undermine his efforts or sabotage him all you want, creature; but he trusts me, and I’ll be the judge of all of this.”

Cisserus was slack-jawed; a million questions arose: Time travel? All of the possibilities? What _inevitable_ would happen? Why did Merlin give up on going back in time? So he had chosen people other than Natasha before?

The creature was restless and annoyed like some vanilla-low-level demon; Cisserus started to relax just a little, seeing their enemy could be so easily ruffled-up.

“I am a god!”

“Tell that to Lucifer.”

She circled the demon like a predator; Cisserus held her breath as it lunged at Natasha, but it was under some kind of invisible leash. Natasha didn’t flinch, walking slowly around her prey.

“Don’t do this!”

It went back to normal; “Merlin” begged uncharacteristically; Natasha ignored entirely and walked back to where she stood. The invisible footprints she made while circling the ungodly creature started to shine in golden light; the marks got unbearably bright as Cisserus closed her eyes.

The demon stopped struggling, and smirked, slipping back to its character.

“Now what would you do with all of this excessive power if I’m gone? Don’t you want to use it for yourself? Think about what you could do; your girlfriend would be pleased—”

“Go to hell, would you?”

With an eruption of energy, the malevolent creature faded out with gushes with wind and a faint scream. Cisserus felt the air was taken out of her lungs with something punched in her stomach; before she could react to the painful sensation, she felt the impact was gone like it’d never existed.

_The strange feeling surged from the magical connection of her and Natasha._

Cisserus struggled hard to make the connection; her head was still slushy.

Merlin—the original one—collapsed on the moist floor due to the steam, created by the entanglement of the hot wind and the cold. Cisserus could feel the absence of the demonic presence as the room’s tension untied, leaving nothing but vapor and the smell of pungent acid. The wolves in the back were now a group of naked people, staring at each other, puzzled and embarrassed.

“Now, all of you…”

Natasha flicked her wrist, and they were tied and bound to each other, immobilized.

“That would serve them right.”

She muttered, her black eyes turning back to normal. Natasha’s gaze turned softer when it landed on Cisserus’ stoic, pale expression; Cisserus stopped trembling, caught and hypnotized in the blue gaze.

“Cissy.”

She walked towards her and enveloped her body in her smaller one. Cisserus felt scared and so _small_, but she swelled with pride as she hugged Natasha’s petite form in her arms.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

Her voice was hoarse and raw.

“I thought you liked me being confident.”

She felt something wet on her cheeks as they broke apart; Natasha wiped the tear away, leaving a hot trail of tingle behind. Cisserus shivered as the remnant of Natasha’s magic surrounded her like a thousand kisses caressing her skin; she smirked upon noticing the heat rising from Cisserus’ cheek.

Natasha concentrated; then she was back to normal again, not being Cassandra or other alter egos, The Mystery, the woman who just single-handedly sent a hell-beast back to where it belonged, just Natasha, who was still new to this world, to reality, to love.

Cisserus felt the power dissipate as their connection no longer vibrated with the crazy amount of energy; but it was still there, transformed into a gentle hum down in Cisserus’ spine. She wondered how Natasha was feeling now after she managed to contain—or did she channeled it elsewhere? —all that magic inside of her; she reached out carefully and touched Natasha’s overheated cheek, bracing herself for any kind of electrical impact. Nothing happened; Natasha was smiling at her like she’d never seen something so beautiful, and her face was still so smooth and tender under her cool touch.

Someone coughed from behind and Cisserus rolled her eyes. _Of course the bastard didn’t die._

“I’m sorry to interrupt your moment of intimacy; but --”

“And I was still wondering how long it’d take you to explain all of that.”

Merlin shot Cisserus’ a weary look, heavy with vulnerability, like a lone wolf wounded in an ice storm. She’d never seen him in this state before.

“I have an offer for Natasha to join us—join the Merlins. As you can see, this quarter was left mostly in ruins, and we desperately need help to exterminate the rest of the lycanthropes. Their organization had numerous branches, in need to be dismantled.”

He gestured towards the naked people that were tied jocularly, the broken walls damaged by the spells and modern weapons, and the ghostly hall now reeking with the smell of blood and sweat.

“We need you, Natasha. The Merlin’s need your help.”

She groaned, caught up with waves of unprecedented fatigue; Cisserus sent a dirty look at the arrogant man’s direction.

“You better elaborate the _fuck_ on _all of that_, or I’ll kick your sorry ass.”

Natasha looked at them amusedly with hooded eyes, as Merlin broke his character indulgently, doing what he was told as an informal apology.

“Of all the chances and risks I took; Natasha was the least that I thought would succeed. I am at no liberty to tell you about the other disastrous alternate universes that I over-corrected, or the ones that the evil prevailed. If I reveal those results, it would create plot-holes for ill-willed opportunists in the future. There’s one thing I can tell you: Natasha just made the choice to prevent this reality from being tainted with greater forces beyond earth.”

“You mean forces on the other side?”

Natasha questioned as she rubbed soothing, calming circles on Cisserus’ lower back; Merlin unsubtly pretended he didn’t see the gesture as he carried on.

“Forces from other ‘sides’, to be precise. If you join us, you can discover so much more about this world and other worlds. And about yourself.”

“How did she get possessed in the first place? I remember it said something about ‘the convenience of being both the host and the tool’.”

Merlin averted his gaze and ruffled through his sandy hair. Natasha shifted and tensed.

“He was trying to make the right decision--”

“I was planning on destroying the book and the demon at once. The Mystery has rarely done any good. But Natasha would be killed in the process, and I’d also neglected the powers that would be unleashed once the demon was sent back to hell. Keeping Natasha alive to absorb the excessive powers was another option, which I took.”

Cisserus’ head went blank with pure rage, but the anger quickly deflated when Natasha held on to her hand, and she felt a warm, butter-like flow of something like honey flavored milk—and it must her own interpretation of Natasha’s soothing powers.

She spoke on before Cisserus had the chance to reignite the anger and bash the bastard’s face in.

“Merlin had decided he would sacrifice himself as he cast the demon into his own body; he would presumably die anyway if he successfully kills me, absorbing the extreme amount of magic. He trusted my newly-awakened abilities to send the thing back, at the same time managing to preserve him; he took a gamble of his life. But if you still want to punch him, go ahead. I’m not so pleased with the fact he was willing to kill me.”

Cisserus set her jaws as Merlin tensed, bracing himself for a slap or any form of attack. But the punch was never delivered.

“Well, Nat certainly proves you wrong. You said the book has rarely done any good, and here she is, harnessing its power to do by good.”

The warlock shrugged and bowed.

“Thank you. For the efforts you’ve made intentionally or unintentionally. And Natasha, my offer still stands.”

Natasha rolled her eyes as Cisserus huffed.

“I’ll give it a thought.”

She turned around and looked at her lover sweetly, forcing Merlin to take in _this_ reality. Cisserus placed a protective hand affectionately on Natasha’s shoulder.

“Honeymoon, huh?”

Merlin grumbled under his breath comically as if he was a still not believing this was happening and dragged his thousand-year-old-body out of the hall.

“He’s acting like a jealous man child.”

“Who doesn’t have a crush on you?”

***

_It takes an adventure to realize who she is._

_It takes an adventure to fall in love._

_Natasha knows she will be taking Merlin’s offer, because that is the right thing to do, even if every particle of her wants to spend the rest of her time with Cisserus, safe and warm, all curled up in their comfort zone, happy. _

_She has no time to wallow in self-pity, of how her time was stolen when she roamed alone on earth when she could’ve enjoyed living instead of surviving. Let the occasional nightmares be damned; she has time, and she will be strong enough to fix herself and other things. Cisserus is a hard puzzle to solve, but she enjoys the process of knowing and understanding every broken curve and sharp edges of her lover._

_Natasha learns some of the things Cisserus did in the past, slowly but progressively; Cisserus is willing to share because she knows there would be no judgment. Natasha can tell that she is happy being with her; if not, peaceful._

_And that is probably the best ending Cisserus deserves._

_Tomorrow is a day of replenishment and the embarrassingly-frequent amount of mind-blowing sex (she promises she would make it up to Cissy for her absences in the future working with Merlin……oh well), and Natasha can’t wait to get started._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, whoever you are, for reading! It takes an extreme amount of patience and open-mindedness to follow through this story.  
Love you all!❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a drunken 3 a.m; I tried hard to not to think about it because I know the story is going to be messy and difficult to wrap up. The more I tried not to think about it, suppress my feelings, the greater the thing--what would you think of if someone tells you not to think about apples--happen. So here I am.  
Fuck it, what's the harm of putting this out here?
> 
> And let's face it, Sigourney Weaver is definitely everyone's adolescent secret girl crush. I'm going to admit Alien: Ressurection is my favorite one in the Alien series despite the raging critics out there. Then Sig became a vampire in a not-so-horror romcom?  
That's a dream-come-true.


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